


It's Only You, Isn't It?

by LadyGoat



Series: The Gods Are Laughing [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed Odyssey
Genre: Angst Everywhere (and that stuff stains), Athens, Delphi, Established Relationship, Family Drama, Fluffier than I was expecting, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, Introducing your partner to all your friends can get embarrassing, M/M, OCs as needed to move things along, Oh god I've never written smut before, Peloponnesian War, Post-Game(s), Sparta - Freeform, Spartan society was not very nice, Spoilers, changing relationship, historical notes (because I can), lyxios - Freeform, period typical homophobia (toned down), so many spoilers, there will probably be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 50,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGoat/pseuds/LadyGoat
Summary: I am doomed by my love of a rare pair. WIP, we'll see how it goes. Canon-typical violence may ensue. Will probably ensue for that matter. The series is here as a place for me to stick anything else I write for this pairing, because I like tidy indexing (along with historical accuracy and adorable doctors).Tags updated as and when needed.





	1. The place that when you have to go there, they have to take you in

**Author's Note:**

> I am doomed by my love of a rare pair. WIP, we'll see how it goes. Canon-typical violence may ensue. Will probably ensue for that matter. The series is here as a place for me to stick anything else I write for this pairing, because I like tidy indexing (along with historical accuracy and adorable doctors).
> 
> Tags updated as and when needed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After saving his family and saving the world, Alexios just wants to be human and not a tool or a weapon. His parents have other plans, but he has another option.

“So, Alexios,” Myrrine said casually, the family gathered round the table for dinner. “Nikolaos and I have spoken. It's time for you to be married.”

Alexios froze, a chunk of lamb nearly in his mouth. Kassandra's eyebrows rose, and a scowl began gathering on Stentor's brow. “Married? Just like that?”

“Of course,” said Myrrine, serenely, reaching for the pitcher of wine. “As the eldest you are the heir to House Agiad, and so it falls to you to be married and produce an heir. We've had several inquiries for your hand already since we've returned.”

Alexios let his hand fall, his face going flat and blank. When he spoke again, his voice was hard. “You want me to get married. Here. In Sparta. And raise a child, again, here. In Sparta.”

Nikolaos raised one eyebrow and set his cup down, gesturing with his other hand to cut off Stentor before the young man could speak. “Of course here in Sparta. Is there a problem, Alexios?”

“I don't know, father. You tell me how I could possibly have a problem raising a child here in Sparta. Where you threw me off a mountain when I was ten years old because a corrupt woman told corrupt old men to murder your baby daughter. Where boys are sent off to the agoge at seven years old to live or die at the hands of brutal trainers. Who wouldn't want to raise a family here?”

Nikolaos shifted uncomfortably, lowering his eyes, and Myrrine slapped her hand down on the table. “Alexios, you are the heir--”

Alexios gestured sharply. “Let Stentor marry and continue the House of Agiad. He is a much better Spartan than I am, and a much better heir for Nikolaos. What do I have to offer? I'm a mercenary, mother, and I don't want to marry anyone in Sparta, much less have children here.”

“Our bloodline is too important!”

Kassandra coughed into her hand as Alexios started to laugh. Stentor turned beet red. “Don't worry yourself, mama, I've spread our precious bloodline across the Aegean. Even a few Spartan women wanted the Eagle Bearer himself in their beds. The bloodline will continue, even if it isn't a part of House Agiad.”

Nikolaos rubbed at his eyebrows with his fingers and thumb. “Alexios, regardless of your behavior on your adventures, the time has come for you to be a respectable Spartan citizen. You simply cannot continue unmarried and participate in the fullness of Spartan civic life.”

Alexios shoved the bench back from the table, standing in a fluid motion. “Did anyone stop to think that perhaps I don't want to participate in it? I've seen more than enough of Spartan law and civic life and I'm not raising a family here where Mount Taygetos feeds on the blood and bones of children.” He strode to the chest where his weapons and armor had been laid away after the defeat of the Cult of Kosmos, pulling on his cuirass with a smoothness born of long practice. Ikaros made an inquiring noise from a perch by the door.

“What are you doing?” Myrrine demanded.

“Leaving. I'm a mercenary, that's what we do.”  
“Where will you go? This is your home, Alexios.”

“Anywhere but here. This hasn't been my home since I was thrown off Mount Taygetos.” Alexios slung his bundled weapons across his back and yanked the door open, Ikaros hopping to his shoulder as he disappeared into the night, the door slamming shut with finality behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both the game and I are playing fast and loose with history here. Since he never completed the agoge, in which the sons of Spartaite (citizen) men were enrolled for training from age 7 to age 30, Alexios isn't a Spartaite himself. While he clearly isn't one of the helots, his social standing would have been that of a foreigner or more likely one of the perioikoi -- free craftspeople who did the weaving, smithing, and other skilled labor that kept Lakonia running. The perioikoi were also the only people allowed to travel to other cities. Spartaites needed special permission, and helots were tied to the land they worked.
> 
> Since Stentor clearly DID complete the agoge (otherwise he wouldn't be a general), he would be the preferred heir for Nikolaos, sparkly special bloodline or no sparkly special bloodline.
> 
> You also have to ask yourself why Alexios apparently never went to the agoge. The sons of Spartaites were taken from their mothers at 7 years old and sent to the agoge, where they lived in communal barracks until they were 30. But we're shown Alexios living at home when he was 10 or 12 (the game is a little unclear on how old he was when Nikolaos threw him off Mount Taygetos). Historical sources suggest that Spartaite men sometimes had other men impregnate their wives (they were REALLY into eugenics) so the fact that Alexios wasn't Nikolaos's biological son shouldn't have made a difference.
> 
> But if Myrrine wanted him raised as a Spartaite and indoctrinated into their ways (as is suggested when you return to Sparta with her and she's horrified if you try to save the boys fighting the wolves) then not sending him to the agoge was absolutely the worst way to go about it. Alexios was marked as one of the perioikoi from childhood, evidently.


	2. There's no hiding place down here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexios needs better hobbies than starting fights on an international scale.
> 
> Still, sometimes even the worst plan works.

Fast footsteps and a skidding stop behind Lykaon alerted him to the arrival of one of the boys the Spartans employed as messengers even before the lad burst out, “Doctor! Doctor! There are men here to see you, all the way from Athens!”

“I'm coming, child,” he said wearily, pushing himself up from where he knelt checking the work of an apprentice who had bandaged this particular soldier. The apprentice had done well, but it wouldn't matter in the end. The wound was bad, in the gut, and all they could really do was keep the Spartan comfortable with painkillers and wait to see if he lived or died.

Lykaon trudged out of the tent into the last light of the sun. Two men stood amid the tired murmuration of the army camp post-battle, clean and wearing elegantly draped clothing. One was bald, the other pug-nosed and ugly. “Gentlemen,” he said. “I am Lykaon. You are here to see me?”

“Ah yes,” said the bald man. “I am Hippokrates Heraclidou of Kos, and my companion is Sokrates Sophroniscou of Alopeke. We're looking for a mercenary.”

“Hippokrates of Kos? The physician? I-- I read your latest treatise, I've read all of them, I have wished to study with you. It is a great honor to have you standing here. How can I help you? A mercenary, you say? I sent apprentices ahead to treat them, the Spartans contracted with me to care for the mercenaries who fought with them as well as for their own soldiers. It's this way.” Lykaon began to lead them to the edge of the camp, where a shabbier tent stood.

“Indeed,” said the man identified as Sokrates. “A friend of ours, Alexios Niko--” He was forced to catch Lykaon by the elbow as the thinner man stumbled.

“Alexios Nikolaou? A mercenary named Alexios Nikolaou? The Lakedaemonian? The Eagle Bearer? You think he's here?” Lykaon clutched at Sokrates's arm, remembering a ready smile, kind hands, and dark, dark eyes a man could fall into and never come out.

Sokrates raised both eyebrows. “Yes, that Alexios. Medium sized, disinclined to philosophy, starts battles as a profession if no one keeps him out of trouble.”

“We've-- we've met.” Lykaon released the other man's arm and turned, now hurrying toward the tent where the Spartans had gathered the mercenaries that survived the battle. “What makes you think he's here?”

Hippokrates chuckled drily. “When a battle breaks out in a previously stable deme, it does make a person suspicious. He disappeared from Sparta some weeks ago, and his sister contacted us asking us to look for him. Then the Athenian general in Phokis died suddenly and in mysterious circumstances and we hurried this way.” A plaintive call interrupted him as they drew close to their destination. “And that's Ikaros, if my ears don't mistake me. At least we haven't missed him again.”

Lykaon led the way into the tent, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the dimness before sweeping them over the two rows of men lying here. Several of them lay very, very still. A few sat up, testing bandaged limbs. Across the tent, lying down, was a figure covered by a red chlamys he recognized, and he rushed that way, falling to his knees beside the pallet, his heart a painful thumping in his chest. “Alexios?” he whispered.

Alexios opened one eye, the other swollen shut, and something Lykaon could hardly bear blazed in his face. He clawed back the cloak covering him enough to grope for the doctor, who caught his hand, his fear a little relieved to find Alexios's grip strong and sure. Lykaon pressed his lips to the back of the mercenary's hand. “Alexios, what are you doing here?”

Alexios parted his lips, wincing a little as it reopened a split on his bottom lip, but then his eye flicked up over Lykaon's shoulder. “Who's this? Hippokrates? Sokrates? Why are you in Phokis?”

It was Sokrates who answered. “Your sister sent us looking for you after you left Sparta with never a word. We just missed you in Boiotia and Megaris. Then we heard about Athens's general and hurried here.”

Alexios closed his eye, blowing out a gust of breath. “I don't want to be found,” he rasped, his hand holding fast to Lykaon's. “Go home, Sokrates. Say nothing to Kassandra. She'll only tell Myrrine and Nikolaos where to find me. Hippokrates can stay and assist Lykaon, then he can go home too.”

Lykaon rested the fingertips of his free hand against the pulse in Alexios's wrist, finding it fast but strong. Feeling greatly daring, he moved it to first brush the backs of his fingers against Alexios's cheek, then stroked the mercenary's hair gently. He watched, wondering, as the man's breathing slowed and deepened a little at his touch. Behind Lykaon, Hippokrates and Sokrates exchanged a look.

“I will stay,” said Hippokrates. “I have a feeling Lykaon might appreciate having another physician to assist him. And certainly no one is going to tell Kassandra anything without your consent, Alexios. We were all worried. Your line of work is dangerous, after all.”

Lykaon twisted around as far as he could without removing the hand stroking Alexios's hair. “Thank you. Your assistance will be invaluable. You and Sokrates both are welcome here, and I name you guest-friends. My home is open to you. You will find it just east of the animal pens near the agora.”

Both men recognized a dismissal when they heard one and murmured their farewells before picking their way out of the tent. Lykaon watched them go and then turned back to the man before him. “They're gone.”

Alexios opened his eye wearily. “Thank the gods. I don't know which of them is more insufferable. Soon they'll have my whole family coming to Phokis to collect me.” He squeezed the doctor's hand. “It's good to see you again, Lykaon.”

With a deft, gentle touch, Lykaon ran his fingertips along Alexios's eyebrows, soothing the tension away from his brow. “I could wish you were in somewhat better condition. Where are you hurt?”

“It's nothing important. Some bruises, some scrapes, a little bit of a stab that got through my armor by not my ribs. And I stopped a shield with the side of my face.”

Lykaon squeezed Alexios's hand. “I think you're supposed to get out of the way of those blows, my dear.”

Alexios started to chuckle, then winced. “Please don't make me laugh. I was busy stabbing a polemarch at the time.”

Lykaon sighed. “Since you'll probably live, what are you doing here?”

Alexios fastened his intense gaze on Lykaon's face. “I came here to see you. But you were gone, and no one would tell me where you were. I looked and looked, all over Phokis, Lykaon. I thought you were dead. So I decided I would tear the deme apart around me until I found you. And look, it worked.”

Lykaon shook his head and leaned down to brush his lips across the mercenary's forehead. “Oh my dear. My darling man. My sister, Agave, moved to Boiotia, but was frightened after war broke out. So I went to help her move home. We got here just in time to hear that the Athenian general had died, and for me to answer a notice I found from the Spartans asking for doctors. And here we are. You can't start a war just because you don't get your way, Alexios.”

The mercenary closed his eye as Lykaon began stroking his hair again. “I thought you were dead. No one would tell me, Lykaon.” He could hear the petulant note to his own voice but seemed powerless to stop it. “If I'd found your grave I would have burned it all down and sowed the fields with salt.”

Lykaon sighed. “We'll talk about it later. For now, this is a terrible place to recover. Can you walk or shall I have the captain provide a litter?”

“For you I will fly like Pegasos. Tomorrow, maybe, after some rest.”

“Which you won't get here. My house will be much better for you, fresh air and sunlight and an actual bed.”

Alexios's eye flew open and he clenched his hand on Lykaon's. “Your house? Where you just sent Sokrates? And you think it will be restful?”

“Shhhh. I can defend you from one philosopher.”

“And when you're seeing to patients?”

“I think perhaps the tactful and accommodating Hippokrates realized there is only one patient who concerns me right now.”

Alexios smiled wearily. “Fetch the litter, then.”

Lykaon reluctantly released the mercenary's hand and set it on Alexios's chest, giving his hair one last gentle stroke. “It will be fine, Alexios. You'll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ancient Greeks identified themselves with a single name. If they needed to be more specific, they'd add their patronymic and when away from home, their deme (city-state) of origin. Those who were especially important and/or famous might get an epithet (like "Eagle Bearer") but it wouldn't be something your friends would call you, usually. Barnabas, who regularly refers to Alexios as a demigod, probably calls him "Eagle Bearer" all the damned time.


	3. If I could just crash here tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lykaon is probably lucky Alexios is tired enough to stay put.

The trip by litter was worse than Alexios liked to admit, even with Spartan discipline keeping the bearers in step and cutting the jolts by half. By the time they reached Lykaon's house he was sweating and gripping the sides, his teeth gritted to keep from making a noise. The doctor fretted beside him the entire way, but he couldn't bring himself to care about word making its way back to Stentor and then to Nikolaos. If the word that his eldest son had fled to a male lover kept Nikolaos from trying to marry him off, it was all to the good.

Lykaon installed him in a clean bed in the upper bedroom, with the shutters open to admit the breeze and its smell of forests, and then went down to see what food was in the house. Alexios could hear the three familiar voices below, speaking quietly to each other. The sense of safety and peace had been unfamiliar of late, and he couldn't quite let himself relax into it for fear it would disappear as soon as he closed his eyes.

Footsteps on the stairs and the smell of food announced Lykaon before his dark, curly hair showed above the floor. He smiled to see Alexios watching him, his hands full of a bowl and a cup. “Nothing exciting tonight, I'm afraid. Some soup, and some well-watered wine with a painkiller in it. Then we'll see how well my apprentices did cleaning you up. Can you sit up by yourself, or would you like help?”

Alexios began struggling to get himself upright, and Lykaon rushed to set down his burdens next to the bed and assist. Finally, the mercenary leaned back against pillows, his lips tight and his breathing quick. Lykaon brushed his hair back from his face gently. “Breathe, Alexios. This will pass.”

Making an effort to smile, Alexios reached up and caught Lykaon's hand. “Thank you. For finding me, when I couldn't find you, and bringing me here.”

Lykaon blushed. “If I'd known you were coming, I'd have waited for you before I left for Boiotia.” 

Alexios kissed the backs of Lykaon's fingers, his stubble prickling against the other man's skin. “If I'd known your sister was in Boiotia, I would have turned down the job.”

Lykaon coughed and picked up the bowl of soup. “What's done is done. Agave is well, she's back here in Phokis and caring for our grandmother again. And while I know you can't stay forever, I have you here for a little while, at least.”

Alexios accepted the bowl and sipped at the soup cautiously, then took a larger drink when the sip went over well. “What if I could?”

The doctor furrowed his brow. “What if you could what?”

“Stay forever. For as long as you wanted me to stay.”

“You don't need to make impossible promises to me. I know you have...obligations that require you to travel.”

Sighing, Alexios finished off the last of the soup before setting the bowl aside. “It's been a long day, Lykaon, and I'm afraid I'm not being very clear. My obligations are done. I have left Sparta and my family with it. There is nothing now but my work, and my fees are enough that I don't need to constantly travel.”

Lykaon pressed the cup of wine into Alexios's hand. “Drink that. Of course I'd like you to stay. And at the moment I don't think you're up to leaving, anyway. Set aside all your worries, and concentrate on resting and healing, my dear. We'll sort out your future when you're up to it. But you have a place here as long as you want one.”

The mercenary took a gulp of wine to cover his attempt to swallow the lump in his throat, then made a face. “This tastes of bile and the kinds of things healers inflict on patients to assault them into getting better.”

Chuckling, the doctor motioned to him to continue drinking. “Hippokrates advised me on ingredients. You'll want it when we clean your wounds, he's discussed with me a method involving vinegar to prevent them becoming putrid. It was either painkillers, or we let Sokrates distract you. Was the wound on your ribs sewn?”

Alexios rolled his eyes, swallowing the rest of the wine quickly. “May the gods defend me from Sokrates. No, it was not. Your apprentices might have attempted it, but I didn't like the look of them and drove them off.”

“Silly man. I trained them myself, using the methods I learned from Hippokrates's treatises.”

“A mercenary has little reason to trust doctors, whichever army hired them. It's cheaper to let us die and take back our pay.”

Lykaon collected the bowl and took the cup from Alexios. “Well, you've no need to fear now. I don't intend to let you die when I've found you again, and in such an agreeable mood. I'll return in a moment with Hippokrates to clean you up, and then we'll let you rest. Your armor and weapons are in my chest downstairs, and Ikaros is preening by the fire. All is well, Alexios.”

Alexios let his good eye fall shut and leaned his head back against the pillows. “Maybe I can believe it now.”

He thought he must have lost some time dozing off. It seemed Hippokrates and Lykaon materialized beside the bed. His head was fuzzy from whatever had been in the wine, but he trusted both of them and floated in the warmth of the medication as Lykaon's deft hands unfastened the fibulae at the shoulders of his chiton. He smiled beatifically. “This was more fun last time.”

Lykaon blushed and Hippokrates tried to look stern as the younger doctor carefully folded back the length of cloth covering Alexios. The blush immediately disappeared and his face sobered. “I won't dispute that. I've seen you looking better.”

Hippokrates handed the younger doctor a bowl and a cloth. “Never fear, Lykaon. We'll have him back on his feet soon enough.”

Lykaon nodded. “Alexios, my dear, this isn't going to be pleasant even with the painkillers we gave you.” He gently moved the warrior's arm out of the way and pinned it with one knee, dipping the rag in the bowl of vinegar he held and beginning to clean the blood and grime from Alexios's side. The stab wound was a vertical slit with a shallow pocket behind it where the point of the spear had slid slightly against the rib. The area was bruised and discolored.

Hippokrates knelt to look more closely at the injury. “I think we won't sew this one, Lykaon.,” he said over the sound of Alexios swearing. “The inside must heal, then the outside, so that if there is pus it can escape. With it so close to the heart and lungs...”

Lykaon set the bowl and rag aside, stroking Alexios's cheek. “There, then. A clean bandage, and you're done until tomorrow, my dear. With this one.” Alexios clenched his jaw as Hippokrates helped him sit forward and Lykaon placed a pad of clean cloth against the wound, winding linen around him to hold it in place. After rearranging the pillows so Alexios could lie down, the two doctors lowered him carefully. “Let me just see to your minor wounds so they don't become major wounds, and you can rest.”

As Lykaon began tending to the scuffs on Alexios's knuckles and the shallow cuts on his forearms, Hippokrates discreetly retired downstairs. The mercenary's pain receded with the footsteps, Lykaon's voice quietly murmuring encouragement in his ears. “Stay with me.”

The doctor glanced up at him. “Hmmm?”

Alexios tightened his fingers on the hand gently cradling his own. “Stay with me tonight.”

Lykaon snorted. “Alexios, I realize you're enjoying the opium but you're in no condition--”

“No. Just. Just stay with me. So when I wake up I'll know this wasn't a dream.”

His expression softening, Lykaon gave Alexios's fingers a squeeze. “Of course. How thoughtless of me. Yes, of course I'll stay near you tonight.” 

The tension melted out of the man's face and shoulders, his entire body seeming to slump as he said, “Thank you. I was so worried, when I came here and couldn't find you. I don't want to wake in the night and think I dreamed all of this.”

“Just let me take this bowl downstairs and clean it, and I'll be back. All really is well, Alexios.”

The mercenary let Lykaon's fingers slide from his, relaxing into the comfort of the mattress and the sound of voices from downstairs again. Finally, the peace carried him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ancient Greeks were in fact taking up washing wounds with vinegar around the time Hippokrates of Kos was doing his thing. Which is not a terrible idea, absent high proof liquor a mild acid like vinegar is an all right disinfectant. I imagine it stings like a bitch though. I'm almost but not quite curious enough to try it next time I have a minor wound, just to see how many profane terms I know.
> 
> Stitching up wounds has been known since at least 3000BCE in Egypt, where we find the first report. It was probably significantly less fun than it is now. Materials used included animal sinew, dried strips of intestine, silk, and plant fibers like linen. The strips of intestine ("catgut") continued to be used until fairly recently, when nylon and silk and dissolving stitches took over.
> 
> Wine was always mixed with water in ancient Greece - drinking your wine straight was considered to be dangerous. On the other hand, they also drank wine with every. freaking. meal. Breakfast was often bread dipped in wine to soften it. With abundant access to springs and flowing water (both of which are relatively safe sources, although the Greeks preferred springs) they also drank water. But mostly wine, all the time.


	4. Looks like morning in your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes waking up at dawn is all right.

The watery light of dawn and a full bladder woke Alexios. He came suddenly awake, lying very still as he tried to remember where he was and why. His head pounded, his side ached and burned, and the rest of his body was stiff and sore. Turning his head carefully, he found Lykaon still beside him, and memory came rushing back in. He smiled, then began carefully easing out of the bed. It took longer than he'd like, but finally he was on his feet, wrapping his chiton around him and fastening it at one shoulder before tying a belt loosely around his waist.

Padding quietly down the stairs, he found Sokrates and Hippokrates still asleep on couches, Ikaros perched on the back of a chair with his head under one wing. He made his way carefully outside to take care of his bladder, relieved as always after a battle to find no blood in his urine. Coming back into the house, he spotted Lykaon's chest and was checking to be sure his possessions were all present when he heard a quiet tread on the stairs.

“Leaving?” asked Lykaon, careful to pitch his voice low.

Alexios shook his head, closing the chest and pushing himself upright to go to him and rest his hands on Lykaon's waist. “No. Not unless you're asking me to. But it's difficult to rest without knowing how clean my blades are.”

The doctor smiled softly. “Of course I'm not asking you to. Come back to bed, Alexios, you need more rest.”

Alexios leaned his forehead gently against Lykaon's. “Are you coming with me?”

“If it's the only way to make you lie still a little while longer.”

“It is.”

“You drive a hard bargain, mercenary.” Lykaon slipped from Alexios's grasp and led him back up the stairs. “Besides, if we stay downstairs longer we'll wake my distinguished guests.”

Alexios slid back under the blankets, rolling onto his side so he could face the other man. “No one wants to deal with Sokrates questioning them at the first light of dawn.”

Lykaon laughed quietly. “I don't doubt it. But tell me what's happened to you since we last parted. You were so close to having your vengeance, to finding your sister.”

Alexios glanced down, finding one of Lykaon's hands and bringing it to his chest to cradle it there. “I did find the last of the Cult of Kosmos, and destroy them. And my mother and I found my sister, and we brought her home to Sparta. Then my parents began searching for a bride for me.”

The doctor found it difficult to breathe suddenly, his eyes searching Alexios's face. “I imagine there was no shortage of applicants,” he managed to choke out.

“I imagine not. But I didn't want to marry and raise a family in Sparta. They threw me from a mountain there. Even more...for these past many months, for so many, I have been only a weapon. A tool to be aimed at their enemies, even for my parents. I thought... I thought when this was all over, perhaps that would change. Perhaps they would see me as a man.” Alexios stopped, breathing a little hard, and brought one warm, callused hand up to cradle the back of Lykaon's neck and gently touched his forehead to the doctor's. Lykaon, as always, was conscious of Alexios's strength, held carefully in check. “They didn't, Lykaon. Instead I became a tool for the expansion of the family's glory. Through all these months, only one person has acknowledged me as a man, has wanted nothing of me but that I be human.”

Alexios smiled softly. “And so, I had already been thinking of you and when I might come here again, but the night that they told me I must marry, I left their home and I left Sparta. I thought only of you, and how in this place I might be only Alexios of Lakonia, and not the Eagle-Bearer at all.”

Lykaon brushed his lips against Alexios's, feeling his beard catch on the other man's stubble. “And Megaris? Boiotia?”

“Well, I couldn't come to you empty-handed, could I? So I took a little work, to keep my purse filled.” Alexios looked down. “And I was too angry to come directly to you. I was the weapon they wanted me to be. I didn't want to come to you like that.”

Lykaon reached up with his free hand to lay the palm along Alexios's cheek. “Oh, you silly man, I would have been delighted to see you regardless. You should know that, by now.”

Alexios smiled and tilted his head just enough to capture Lykaon's mouth with his own, the kiss tender but with a little rising heat behind it. “I don't deserve you, healer.”

The doctor slid a little closer and tangled his legs up with the mercenary's. “Of course you do.”

Alexios kissed him again, hungrier this time, the hand at the back of Lykaon's neck tensing just enough to keep him close. His other hand pressed Lykaon's hand to his chest, where his heart beat strongly, speeding its rhythm just a little. “Do you think, if I were very careful not to exert myself more than my physician felt wise...” he murmured against Lykaon's lips, trailing off distractedly as he pressed his body into the other man's.

Lykaon laughed and nipped at Alexios's bottom lip gently. “Your physician thinks you should eat breakfast, and that later perhaps the eminent Athenians can be sent to the Spartan camp, or to consult the Oracle, and we will be able to have a proper reunion then.”

The mercenary groaned. “Let them hear us.” He kissed Lykaon, short and fierce, and then again. “I didn't ask them to come here, or my sister to send them. And it is possible I will die of longing if I can't feel your skin on mine.” He rocked his pelvis a little, his arousal evident and nudging at Lykaon's own stiff cock.

Laughing again, a little breathlessly, Lykaon ran a firm hand down Alexios's back, reveling in having his lover back again. “Breakfast, Alexios. Then I'll sort out my responsibilities to my patients for the day. But I promise after that we'll find some time alone.”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Alexios flopped onto his back, unable to suppress a hint of a wince as the movement jarred his side. “The gods have sent you to test me, clearly. Perhaps I should throw you over my shoulder and carry you away from all of your responsibilities.”

“As long as it's after that hole in your side closes up,” said Lykaon, levering himself out of bed and wrapping his himation around himself. “Perhaps the delayed gratification will teach you to parry or get out of the way faster.”

Alexios rolled his eyes, unable to keep a smile off his face nonetheless. “You drive a hard bargain, doctor.”

“Indeed I do. Come downstairs at your leisure, and we'll get some food into you. It's possible there was milk delivered yesterday that should have curdled nicely by now,” Lykaon said, as casually as he could manage but with a smile at the corners of his mouth.

His lover laughed. “You know me too well. For teganites I will even brave Sokrates first thing in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I'd need to be bribed to talk to Sokrates the first thing in the morning, too. I'm always amazed it took so long for someone to kill him.


	5. Like the wind on the mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions about the future that aren't going to get answered just yet.

By the time Alexios came downstairs a few minutes later, lured by the smell of the teganites, he managed a reasonable imitation of his usual saunter to the front door to stick his head outside. “Lykaon, can I help you with anything since these distinguished gentlemen are sitting like lumps?”

“You know where the honey and cheese are, and I know that you're going to make sad eyes at me if they're not on the table, so you might as well put them there,” Lykaon said from where he was sliding the last of the flat, unleavened cakes onto a stack of them. “I'll be right behind you.”

Alexios winked at him, then ducked back inside, leaving the door ajar, and went to fetch the honey and cheese, nodding to Sokrates and Hippokrates before placing his burdens on the table next to the plate Lykaon had brought in and dropping into a chair. “Chaire, friends. Did you sleep well?”

“Very well indeed,” said Hippokrates, reaching for the top cake and recoiling when Alexios swatted his hand away, deftly snagging it for himself. The mercenary blinked innocently at him and crumbled cheese over it before drizzling it with honey.

Lykaon laughed aloud. “My apologies, gentlemen, for failing to warn you that he gets possessive of breakfast treats. But now that he's got one, it should be safe for the rest of us.”

The rest of the men served themselves as Alexios stuffed the entire thing into his mouth, chewing contentedly. They all ate in silence for a few moments, until Sokrates looked up as the mercenary took his second teganite. “So what are your plans, Alexios?”

Alexios eyed the philosopher warily. “Plans? I thought I'd finish breakfast, then perhaps clean my armor and weapons while my doctor sees to his patients. After that we may ride off into the hills above Delphi.”

Hippokrates sighed and Sokrates rolled his eyes. “I meant in the somewhat longer term. Surely you can't intend to stay here in Delphi. Your family is worried. Don't you think family obligations are important?”

Alexios took a bite from his second pancake, shaking his head, then swallowing. “I'm not in the mood for your games, Sokrates. I do not think I have any particular obligation to a family that threw me off a mountain and has Stentor to marry off to perpetuate the house, no. And perhaps we will not stay in Delphi. We could go anywhere, after all, I've made quite the name for myself. Have you ever been to Athens, Lykaon? I understand they always need doctors and mercenaries.”

Lykaon raised his eyebrows a little. “No, I've never been to Athens.”

“Well, there you are, Sokrates. Perhaps we'll come to see you in Athens. And then, who knows. Aegyptos, maybe.” Alexios thoughtfully licked honey off his fingers. “I understand they have many wonders there.”

Sokrates frowned. “You really intend to exile yourself from Sparta.”

Alexios nodded. “Yes. In fact, if my sister had not sent friends I would have murdered her messengers already and buried them on the mountainside to prevent them reporting on me. I am very serious.”

The philosopher gestured out the door. “You won't at least send word to tell them you aren't dead and buried on a mountainside yourself? Kassandra and Myrrine worry over you. When they said you'd disappeared, we were worried. You're lucky it was Hippokrates who came with me and not Alkibiades.”

Alexios laughed, short and sharp. “I can't imagine convincing Alkibiades to leave the city and come to a place as small as the Chora. To him I will send word, at least. I didn't imagine that my family would write to Athens of all places trying to search for me.”

Hippokrates laid a hand on Sokrates's shoulder as the shorter man opened his mouth to speak again. “We understand, Alexios. I thought we would rest here another day or two, perhaps, and then be on our way back to Athens. Lykaon, there were some patients outside for you earlier. I took the liberty of seeing them, thinking that perhaps you did not wish to be disturbed.”

Lykaon inclined his head to the older physician. “You have my gratitude, sir. Perhaps we can go together to the army camp, and see to the patients there. I left my apprentices to watch over them, of course, but I'll need to reevaluate.”

“I thought perhaps I might go and take Sokrates,” said Hippokrates, “if you'll write us a letter of introduction. I hesitate to leave these two alone lest we come back to find the walls painted with blood.”

Sokrates glared. Alexios crossed his arms on his chest. “I'm right here, you know.”

Lykaon rested a hand on Alexios's thigh under the table, giving a warning squeeze. “Believe me, we know. Hippokrates, I would be deeply grateful. Let me fetch my pen and some papyrus.”

Alexios stood as Lykaon did, following close behind to the next room and slipping his arms around Lykaon's waist to kiss the back of his neck as he gathered a pen and papyrus from the table he used for a desk. He leaned gently back into Alexios's chest, feeling tension in the muscles there. “Just a few moments more,” he murmured, “And then we'll be on our way. Either to a sunny grove on the slopes, or just back up to bed.”

Kissing his neck one last time, Alexios released him and followed him back to the front room. Lykaon seated himself and neatly wrote a brief letter, which he slid over to Hippokrates. “You sincerely have my gratitude, sir.”

The other physician smile wryly, his eyes flicking over Lykaon's shoulder to where Alexios stood with arms crossed again, brooding and surly. “Between Sokrates and myself, one of us must have some tact and empathy. Come, Sokrates, I'll teach you to roll bandages.” Gripping the slightly rotund philosopher by the arm, Hippokrates took the letter and led him from the house.

Lykaon blew out a breath. Behind him, Alexios said, “I'm not going back.”

The doctor stood and turned to him, clasping his upper arms. “I don't know who you're arguing with, my heart. I am the least likely man in Phokis to attempt to send you back to Sparta.”

He smiled a little at that, though his eyes were still dark and his body still tense. “Good. I'm done with leaving you, Lykaon. The gods know I did it enough while pursuing vengeance and family secrets. All that came from it was death.”

Lykaon squeezed Alexios's arms gently. “I know, my dear. I know. But it's done now, and the only thing we have to decide at the moment is whether you're feeling up to a short walk up the mountainside, or whether you'd rather go back to bed.”

Finally Alexios uncrossed his arms, reaching out to gather Lykaon close and nuzzle at his neck. “The bed is closer. We could start there.”

Lykaon tilted his head to the side, shivering at the prickle of his lover's stubble against his skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth and softness of the lips caressing his skin. “I won't argue,” he murmured. “But if you break that hole in your side open, we're stopping.”

Alexios bit softly at his exposed shoulder, pressing closer as if trying to melt into him, and smiled to hear Lykaon's soft gasp. “Of course. I wouldn't dream of disobeying my doctor.”

He found the open side of Alexios's chiton and slid a hand in, caressing his flank first with the palm of his hand and then dragging his nails over the skin softly. “Don't tell lies, Alexios, it's wicked.” He was rewarded with a breathless laugh against his neck and a nip at his ear. Turning his head, he caught Alexios's lips with his own, tasting honey.

His back met a wall, without him noticing the movement. Alexios kept him pinned there with hips and chest, his hands pulling at the folds of his himation. Before the man could get impatient and rip it (it had happened before), Lykaon assisted, unwinding the drape of the garment and pulling it from between them to fall to the floor. Alexios growled approval, one hand sliding between them to work at the knot in his belt while the other slid up his arm to undo the fibula fastening his chiton at the shoulder.

They broke from the kiss, breathless and flushed, to look at each other. Alexios's eyes no longer carried the weight of sadness and anger, but were lit with happiness, a warm mahogany brown. “There's a bed right up there,” Lykaon murmured.

“Too far,” Alexios replied, seizing his lips again, his hands going to his own clothing and in a moment there was nothing between them at all. Lykaon could only hold to his shoulders as he wrapped one warm, strong hand around their cocks simultaneously, holding them together as he rocked his pelvis, the friction and the long separation now ended both sending Lykaon spiraling. They pushed against each other, finding a rhythm, and it didn't take long at all for either of them to spend themselves.

Alexios rested his forehead on Lykaon's shoulder, bracing one arm against the wall to avoid putting his entire weight on the slighter man. “We could try the bed now.”

The doctor laughed, trailing his nails down Alexios's back to feel him shiver, the linen bandage a brief interruption. “We could. Let me put some water on to heat, first, and after you can let me wash all of the battle off of you.”

Alexios picked his head up, kissing Lykaon on the cheek. “Is this you telling me that I stink?”

“Let us say instead that I enjoy taking care of you when I get the chance.” He craned his head to look down at Alexios's side. “I should change this bandage, as well. It's bled a little, we should be more careful.”

Alexios groaned, wandering naked to the corner where the rags were kept and finding one to clean his hand. “I will bleed to death happy if I can only be inside you when I do it,” he declared.

Lykaon blushed, gathering up the discarded piles of fabric on the floor. “Fine. A bath, and we change the dressing, and when you've recovered from that we'll see what happens.”

With a heavy sigh, Alexios dropped the rag into the bucket of others that needed washing. “You're a crueler taskmaster than the trainers in the agoge,” he said, following Lykaon up the stairs.

“Someone has to make sure you behave like a civilized man and don't revert to an austere Spartan with no appreciation of the finer things, you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little pancakes are still a popular Greek food, transliterated "tiganites" these days. A quick google will get you any number of recipes for them. Modern recipes don't use curdled milk, which means they will taste significantly different from what ancient Greeks were eating. Incorporate some sour cream maybe, and then top them with a little cheese and honey and voila.
> 
> Honey was the only sweetener known to ancient Greece, and they used it liberally for desserts and treats. In fact they drizzled olives with honey and ate those. I'm trying to convince someone who actually likes olives to try it and get back to me. Since I consider olives to be Satan's eyeballs, I'm not about to waste perfectly good honey applying it to them. My commitment to historical experimentation only goes so far.
> 
> Ancient Greeks did some of their cooking indoors and some outdoors, depending on season and weather. We don't get a chance to look inside Lykaon's house in the game (why must you torment the fic writers, Ubisoft) and there's no kitchen outside (I might have spent quite a bit of time examining that house and its surroundings), so I'm editing the game a bit here to include period-appropriate cooking facilities outside. Teganites being fried they'd require a high, hot fire, and no one is going to light that inside in the Mediterranean unless it's winter.


	6. A Ghost to Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes even your friends don't see the pit open up under their feet.

They were lying, sated and clean and half-dozing all tangled up with one another, in a beam of late afternoon sunlight coming in the open window when they heard Sokrates's voice coming up the road. Alexios flopped an arm over his eyes. “Gods preserve us, they're returning. And no doubt Sokrates has thought of six more philosophical dilemmas with which to torment me.”

Lykaon propped his head on one hand, admiring the way the raised arm defined muscles in his beloved's chest and arm. “I don't know why he vexes you so.”

Alexios shifted his arm enough to peer out from under it. “I'm not a man of words, my heart. And I can't fix everything with my fists. Even though Sokrates probably has it coming.”

“He does seem to delight in driving people to distraction.” Lykaon trailed his fingertips along the soft skin on the inside of his upper arm, and down onto his chest, watching him shiver and his eyes light with the combination of desire and joy that always marked their time together. Alexios stretched, languid and enjoying the gentle touch. They could hear Hippokrates now, indistinct, replying to Sokrates.

“You're going to drive me to distraction. If you want to greet your distinguished guests, we should get out of bed now. Otherwise I might not let you up until morning.”

Lykaon leaned down and kissed him. “Amazing. You're being the practical one. What's next, Athens and Sparta signing a peace treaty?”

Alexios laughed as they heard footsteps come into the house. “I'd have to find honest work, then. Shall we?”

They dressed, Alexios as usual rolling his eyes at the suggestion he borrow a himation but fastening his chiton at both shoulders. With each step down the stairs, Lykaon could see tension returning to his back and shoulders and knew that his face was closing down and the warm light was fading from his eyes. By the time they reached the bottom and Lykaon was greeting the Athenians, Alexios was guarded once again.

“Anaxilas sends his greetings and a bonus for you, Lykaon. Evidently he wasn't expecting so many of his wounded to live. He said to tell you they'll withdraw to the fort in the morning, and that he'd like to discuss permanent employment with you,” Hippokrates said, setting a small heavy pouch on the table.

Lykaon smiled with pleasure. “I'm glad things went well. I'll have to go up to the fort later this week to meet with him.”

The older physician nodded. “A patron in Sparta's army is worth having if they plan to stay. At least until they start losing battles. Although in your case I worry less about you being protected from the wrath of opposing armies.” He smiled over Lykaon's shoulder at Alexios, who leaned against the wall, arms folded on his chest.

Sokrates laughed at that. “Indeed, the Athenian army might instead worry that they might threaten you.”

Lykaon shrugged philosophically. “It's to be considered later. The future is still somewhat undecided, after all, since I might be dragged off to visit Athens at any given moment.”

“Sokrates and I thought we might set out to return ourselves, in the morning,” Hippokrates replied, drumming his fingers on the table. “Alexios, surely you will at least send word to your family that you aren't dead, even if you don't tell them where you are.”

Alexios barked harsh laughter. “I'll let you do it. Send a letter to Nikolaos and tell him his son is playing the woman for a farmer in Makedonia. Stentor _wants_ to inherit, let him do so. I will neither return nor give them the opportunity to send more messengers.”

The other three men all winced. An awkward silence hung for a moment in the air, finally broken by Sokrates.

“Are you certain? Your family--”

“Is none of your concern, philosopher. This isn't one of your pretty games and it isn't something you can talk me out of. I am done with Lakonia, with Sparta, with the ephors and Mount Taygetos, and most especially I am done with House Agiad where the patriarch is a slave to them all.”

Lykaon turned to study Alexios's face for a moment, then went to him, not caring that the other two men were watching, and carefully cradled his face. “I won't let anyone take you back there. You know that.”

A touch of tension eased out of Alexios's shoulders and his eyes softened as he met Lykaon's gaze. “I know. But I won't have them dragging you into their stupid, brutal games, either.”

Hippokrates coughed behind them. “Well, then. That's settled. You said you would also send word to Alkibiades?”

The mercenary's laugh was more genuine that time. “I was joking. But I should, before he holds a funeral feast for me unrivaled in its ability to shock and appall. Tell him... Tell him that the Eagle Bearer sends his regards and his regrets. And that he must henceforth content himself with Sokrates.”

Lykaon blushed, turning to sit at the table and pour himself a cup of wine. Sokrates's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.

Hippokrates chuckled. “Indeed. Then let us all dine tonight as friends, and Sokrates and I will catch you up on all the latest Athenian gossip. Not _all_ of it features Alkibiades.”

Pushing off the wall, Alexios came to sit next to Lykaon. “He would be disappointed to hear it. But who does rule in Athens with Kleon and Aspasia dead?”

Pouring wine for Hippokrates, Alexios, and himself, Sokrates shook his head. “Nikias attempts to bring back the rule of the nobility, blaming our failure to progress against Sparta on Kleon's excess of democracy. The recent losses here and in Boiotia will only strengthen his cause, I'm afraid.”

Alexios shrugged one-shouldered to avoid pulling at the wound on his side. The bruise on the side of his face made him look particularly warlike and recalcitrant. “Athenians should pay more, then maybe Spartan generals in the field would start having fatal accidents.”

The pug-nosed philosopher glared. “Do you even care which side wins?”

There was no one but the mercenary in Alexios's impassive face as he took a drink of wine and met Sokrates's glare with a level stare. “No. They both kill children. I won't weep if Sparta falls, and Athens would make a fitting funeral pyre for Phoibe.”

Lykaon and Hippokrates met each other's eyes, then Lykaon rested a hand on Alexios's knee, finding the muscles under his palm taut with restrained tension. Hippokrates's sudden movement and Sokrates's yelp suggested the older physician had kicked the philosopher in the ankle.

The younger doctor addressed the older in the conversational opening they'd created. “And how does the city recover from the plague?”

Hippokrates sighed. “Well enough. I worry that sickness will strike again, but conditions are less crowded now through that unfortunate method. Perhaps one fifth of the city was taken, in the end.”

“What tragedy,” Lykaon shook his head. “We were lucky to be spared it elsewhere.” He gave Alexios's knee a squeeze and stood to move about the room, gathering bread, cheese, and olives and setting them on the table. “I saw no cases corresponding with the sickness reported from Athens, and my colleagues in the Peloponnese report the same.” He refilled the pitcher on the table with water and wine and sat again.

“Indeed,” said Sokrates, eyeing Alexios warily as he helped himself to food and drink. “It seems the disease struck only Athens and her allies.”

“I have a theory,” Hippokrates began. Lykaon perked up with interest even as Sokrates rolled his eyes. Alexios, helping himself to bread and cheese, gradually let himself relax into the dinner, listening to the two doctors discuss what had to him been only nameless horror compounded by murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I did totally chicken out of explicit smut, please bear with me. I used to be a technical writer. This is new.
> 
> Let's talk about clothing and homosexuality in classical Greece! No, it's not that they're actually linked, it's just I realized I should talk about clothing and also since it came up, homosexuality.
> 
> The quick and un-nuanced version of classical Greek attitudes toward male homosexuality is that they didn't care much that you were doing it. They cared about who was topping and who was bottoming. The misogyny inherent in their society meant that the bottom was seen as taking on a passive, unmanly role that was shameful. Hence Alexios saying to send his father word that he's "playing the woman" is meant to dig at his father in all the worst ways. I've deliberately toned down the peculiar homophobia in not having Hippokrates and Sokrates concerned with whether or not Alexios is topping Lykaon, urging him to consider how it looks, etc etc. Not because I don't care, but because fuck it, nobody wants to read pages of period-appropriate homophobia.
> 
> The flip side of this however is that the bonds of love between men were seen as really great for military morale in some circles. Presumably they didn't think too hard about the top/bottom thing in Thebes when they were forming a military unit entirely of pairs of male lovers (The Sacred Band of Thebes is probably ripe for fic).
> 
> Re clothing! The chiton is the basic garment you see most everyone in. It's made of a long rectangle of cloth wrapped around the body and fastened at one or both shoulders and then belted because one side is just...open. Classical Greeks did not go in for tailoring. A himation is a much larger rectangle of cloth that was wrapped over this. Alkibiades in the game is wearing only a himation. Markos wears a poor man's himation over a chiton. Alexios is wearing a chiton fastened at both shoulders and nothing else when we see him first, although there's apparently something under it to stop us seeing his manly thighs up to the hip (Ubisoft hates us). A chlamys was a short cloak worn by military types. The closest the game gets to showing us one is the cloth at the top of the "mercenary armor" sets.
> 
> In game, Lykaon appears to be wearing a double-layered chiton fastened at one shoulder and belted with cloth rather than a rope. This isn't really historical, a man of his evident modest wealth (dyed and patterned clothing with a fancy pin for the shoulder!) would be wearing a himation when not at home, or when he had visitors. So I fixed that.
> 
> Because your clothing was just squares and rectangles of fabric, it was also your bedding at night. There were variations of the chiton for women but the himation was the same for everyone.


	7. The past is never dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans are not the only things that get laid.

In bed, later, with a breeze coming in the windows and Alexios idly caressing his chest, Lykaon asked softly, “Did you really mean it about going to Athens, or was that only to torment Sokrates?”

His lover kissed the point of his shoulder and said against his skin, “My heart, if there is anywhere you wish to go other than Lakonia, I will move the earth to take you there. Say the word. Athens? Argos? Mytikas where the gods live?”

Lykaon laughed and patted the hand on his chest. “I think I'm less likely to climb mountains than you are, darling man. But I've always wanted to see Athens.”

Moving up to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, Alexios paused to bite softly, drawing a shiver from him. “Then we'll go. I'll take you to symposia, you can study with Hippokrates if you like. Alkibiades will try to steal you away from me.”

He traced his fingertips over the muscles in Alexios's forearm, moving his head a little to the side. “Try to steal me? I thought you two were...”

“Lovers, yes, once. But you are prettier than I am, no scars to ruin your hide. And you'll be a novelty. It will crush him to be rejected.”

Lykaon rubbed his fingers over a scar on Alexios's upper arm, shivering as the other man's hand wandered down his side. “It's hard to imagine you at Athens symposia.”

Alexios laughed against his throat, curling his fingers around Lykaon's hip and pulling him tightly against his body. “I was very good at the drinking part. And the fornication part Alkibiades ran in the back rooms. Not so much the philosophy part that Sokrates and the others were engaged in, out in the respectable areas.” He curled his fingers around Lykaon's cock, his thumb brushing over the head, drawing a soft inhale.

Lykaon asked shakily, “And yet you'd attend them with me?”

He nudged at the slighter man with his hip, rolling Lykaon onto his side with his back firmly against Alexios's chest, his hand still lazily working Lykaon as he nuzzled at the back of his neck. “I would. And leave Alkibiades to entertain himself. You're stuck with me, physician.” He slid his other arm under Lykaon's neck, wrapping it around his chest to hold him securely. “May I?” he murmured in Lykaon's ear, his voice warm with need.

The physician couldn't find words, his only answer to fumble at the bedside table for a small pot of olive oil, which he uncorked and passed carefully to Alexios in the dark, making a soft disappointed noise when his lover released his cock to take it. His disappointment quickly disappeared as slick fingers teased his opening and warm lips caressed his neck. He pushed back into the fingers a little, unable to entirely stop the sound that escaped him as they slid slowly and gently inside. He felt Alexios smile against his shoulder and say, “I'm going to make you forget you have guests in the house.”

Even the thought of the Athenians downstairs couldn't distract him as Alexios's fingers withdrew and then his cock, slick with oil and precum, began pressing in tantalizingly slowly. At the same time, his hand wrapped around Lykaon's own dick, warm and slick with oil. Lykaon made a strangled, breathless noise and got another laugh as Alexios slowly slid home and began to rock inside him, each movement pushing his cock against that deliciously slick and calloused hand.

Alexios kept things tantalizingly slow for as long as he could, letting the sensations carry him past thought until finally his restraint gave way and the rhythm of his hips and hand sped, Lykaon holding fast to his forearm as he carried them both spiralling past completion. Their soft moans gave way to fast breath and a satisfied noise from Alexios as Lykaon pulled a blanket up over them both, drying sweat making the breeze a little cooler than comfortable.

“When shall we leave for Athens, then?”

“Hmmm?” Lykaon was pulled back from the brink of sleep by the question.

“When shall we leave for Athens? I don't want to travel with Sokrates, I'll kill him. But otherwise there's nothing to say we can't leave immediately.”

“Oh. I still need to meet with Anaxilas, perhaps get started there. And I'll need to be sure my apprentices can handle my patients here in the Chora.”

“No. I don't want you working for the Spartan army.” Alexios's arms tightened around him. “You don't know what they're like. And what happens when Athens does start offering me more money and you're working in a fort I'm breaking into so I can murder your employer?”

Lykaon sighed, wiggling a little to get comfortable in the tighter grip. “It's a very good opportunity, you know. To have a patron, and to gain more experience with war injuries.”

“A Spartan patron, who will treat you like they treat everyone who isn't a Spartan. You can practice on me. Or work with Hippokrates in Athens.”

“Stubborn.”

“I know the Spartan army better than you do. I don't want you involved with them.”

Yawning hugely, Lykaon said, “Can we argue about this in the morning, my dear?”

Alexios sighed and dropped his head to kiss his shoulder. “I suppose. I don't mean to be a tyrant, my heart. If you truly want to work for them, of course you should.”

“Mmm. But you'll be lurking nearby every moment.”

“Unless you send me away.”

“As if I would. I prefer to know where you are, and if I sent you away you'd only be sneaking around.”

Alexios's voice was studiously innocent in the dark. “Someone has to watch your back. Who better than I?”

* * *

The morning was cool and quiet, with a hint of fall in the air. After the Athenians left and Lykaon saw to the patients waiting outside, he and Alexios relaxed in the sun, Alexios's head in his lap and eyes closed as he toyed with the small braids in his hair.

“Do you know, I think your face is less fearsomely bruised already?”

“The gods be thanked, I'd hate to think my good looks would be ruined.”

He brushed a hand over the other man's hair. “Alexios?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened between you and Alkibiades?”

Alexios opened his eyes to study him a moment, eyes searching his face. He seemed to be satisfied with whatever he saw there, because he closed his eyes again and sighed. “We were lovers. I did some favors for him. He told me I was... “useful” was the word he used. I left Athens, and haven't stayed there long or seen him since.”

Lykaon brushed the backs of his fingers against Alexios's cheek. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry.”

He twitched one shoulder in a minimal shrug. “I came to you again not long after he said that. That was when I decided that however you felt about a mercenary wandering in and out of your life, for me there was no one else.”

Resting one hand on his chest, Lykaon traced the bones in his face lightly with the fingertips of his other hand. “I'm not glad for how he used you. But I'm not sorry to have you, either. I've never met anyone like you.”

Alexios smiled softly. “The Chora of Delphi is a small place, my heart.”

Lykaon poked his chest gently. “But the whole Greek world comes to the Sanctuary. I've met people from all over. When we were small Agave and I would run around all day, waiting for grandmother to finish prophesying.”

“Funny, isn't it? When I was small I ran around Kephallonia, stealing for Markos. It's only been these past months that I've traveled, and not been able to stop. The Adrestia has been my home, and it was always moving under me.”

“I've never been out to sea,” Lykaon replied a little wistfully.

Alexios grinned up at him. “Well, I sent word to Barnabas, my captain, when I couldn't find you. In another few days he'll be at the dock at Thermopylae, and we can sail down to the port of Piraeus instead of walking to Athens.”

A delighted smile broke across Lykaon's face. “Is there any wish of mine you can't make come true?”

“Try me and see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally the first smut I have ever written. Be gentle. The next installment will come when I stop blushing furiously and hiding under blankets.
> 
> Although the idea of Lykaon, who comes across as a gentle, cultured soul, having Barnabas and Alkibiades inflicted on him is pretty dang hilarious, so I'll have to come back to it shortly. Barnabas and his hero worship crack me up in game. When playing Kassandra it comes across more than a little creepy, but when playing Alexios it's more of a bromance.
> 
> Mytikas is, incidentally, the proper name of the peak where the gods lived in the Olympus range.
> 
> Brief note on chronology: when I was playing, I literally forgot about the quest where Alkibiades asks you to deliver a thing to a guy in a fort until after I'd finished the main quest line in Athens that ends with Phoibe and Perikles dying. So in fact by the time he said that about Alexios being "useful" in my game, there was no reason for Alexios to go back to Athens much, although I think he did have to see Alkibiades again there towards the end? Work with me here, that was many days and many quests ago.


	8. Down to the seas again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexios starts his doctor off with an easy trek.

It took the better part of seven days for them to be ready to travel, and in the end it wasn't Lykaon's preparations that took the most time but Alexios's. He fretted over everything from the doctor's clothing and sandals to whether or not to buy a donkey to carry baggage, deciding against it in the end. He did however go to the agora at the Sanctuary and return with a chlamys and slightly shabby chiton for Lykaon, as well as a new pair of sturdy sandals.

“We don't want you looking too prosperous. It's a day's trip if we take the shortcut between roads from the Sanctuary down to the dock, and there's nothing in the woods but bandits and wolves. I'll end any fight a bandit starts, but it would be better to avoid them in the first place.” Alexios sat down at the table, setting his purchases aside to start on the food laid out for dinner.

Lykaon nodded. “I understand, although I'll feel very plain,” he smiled.

Folding a piece of bread around a generous slice of lamb, Alexios grinned. “We can appease your vanity once we're on the Adrestia. No ship on the Aegean can out-fight or out-run her. And once we're in Athens, I'll buy you finery to compete with the fanciest citizens, if you want it.” 

“Is this shortcut a...path?”

Alexios shook his head. “No. There's a little bit of a scramble down the far side of the ridge, but we'll at least be on the road going up. I didn't want to be too hard on you. It saves us another day's travel, and finding an inn or a place to camp.”

The doctor looked daunted. “I'm accustomed to the trip to the Sanctuary, of course. The forest will be a different experience.”

“We'll be careful and slow. No broken legs so early in the trip, it's a bad omen. There's a nice place just over the ridge where we can stop for lunch and a rest before it's all downhill to the beach and the dock. The Adrestia will be waiting to carry us to Athens with speed and comfort.” Alexios drained his wine cup. “It will be good to show you the sea.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.”

* * *

The morning dawned clear and mild, Alexios opening his eyes at the first touch of light. He shook Lykaon gently awake, the two of them dressing in companionable quiet and without the Alexios's usual attempts to delay. Downstairs, the doctor gave final instructions to his apprentices, listening with one ear to the sounds of Alexios getting out his armor and weapons and pulling them on. Before, the sounds had always filled him with melancholy, meaning that the mercenary was preparing to leave again. Today, they made his stomach flip with equal parts anxiety and excitement.

Alexios finished the last adjustments of his armor on autopilot, tightening ties and straps until it fit like a second skin. Slinging the bundle of water skin, his chlamys, bow, and the spear of Leonidas on his back, he checked the hang of his sword and its draw. The wound in his side limited his movement, but only if he didn't want to pull on it and risk reopening it. His bruises and scrapes had healed, and he was well-rested. Travel food went into the pouches at his belt, along with the little bit of money he'd left out of the larger pouch tucked into his chiton. He gave himself a shake to make sure everything was secure, then padded out to stand behind Lykaon, who was finally bidding farewell to his apprentices. They'd met him before, but never armored and armed and standing cross-armed behind their master. The young men cut their farewells short.

Lykaon turned to him as they hurried to the treatment area behind the house, his short curly hair free of a circlet at Alexios's insistence. “That explains why they left so suddenly. Are you ready, my dear?”

Alexios nodded, gesturing to the road away from the village agora. “After you, my heart. An easy walk over the mountain, then an easy sail down to Athens.” He placed himself on Lykaon's right side, adjusting his stride to match as they left the Chora. “Just one thing, Lykaon.”

He glanced over, surprised by the use of his name and Alexios's tone of voice. “Yes?”

“If a fight does start, I'll end it. You don't get involved. Stay back and out of my way.”

Lykaon swallowed. “Of course. Do you expect trouble?”

Alexios's face softened and he reached out and touched the other man's shoulder gently. “I always expect trouble, while hoping not to meet it. But I don't want to have to worry about not hitting you on the back swing. Better for you to be back far enough that I can take care of trouble quickly.”

The doctor nodded. “I understand.”

He fell back behind Lykaon as the road grew more crowded with pilgrims, the very picture of a hired guard. With his well-armed presence in attendance, none of the crowds intruded on Lykaon's space, a novel experience for the slighter man. Even the usual beggars along the road directed their attention to other targets, something Lykaon found funny since he knew that Alexios almost always had a spare drachma for those in need. At the gates to the Sanctuary, the crowds split off and the two men continued on their way around the temple complex, heading north up the mountainside. They passed the waterskin back and forth to wash the dust the pilgrims had raised from their throats.

“Wolves and bears in the woods,” Alexios said conversationally, moving up beside him. “And there were pilgrims speaking of a bandit camp. We'll try not to meet up with any of them.”

Lykaon smiled over at him. “I'm sure it will be fine. The gods have sent a beautiful day for a journey, and good company.”

He smiled in return. “It's a little strange to have someone on the road with me. All these months I've been alone unless I was at sea. Tell me if I'm pushing you too hard, my heart.”

“I will. But I'm fine, and if we stop for lunch and it's all down the mountain after that, I don't think it will be a problem unless you want to run to Thermopylae.”

Alexios shook his head. “No need today. We should be down the mountain before dark at this pace.” He scanned the side of the road. “A little further along and we'll turn off to cut over the ridge.... Ah, there's the marker I left. After I met you the first time, actually.”

“Where were you headed?” Lykaon asked, following him off the road and into the trees.

“To meet Herodotos at Thermopylae. I could have taken the Traitor's Path – did I tell you I found it? – but couldn't bring myself to follow in Ephialtes's footprints. So I came over the mountain and stayed in the light, instead, marking my trail in case I wanted to return this way.” He turned back at the top of the ridge to grin down at Lykaon. “The area held...certain attractions for me, after all.”

The doctor stopped next to him, pleased to be only a little out of breath, and took his hand. “I wish I'd known you were planning to return, that day. Between Praxithea and your departure, I spent it feeling aimless and abandoned.”

Alexios leaned in to kiss him swiftly and softly. “If I'd known how you felt, I would have told you I intended to return. I try not to leave people bereft. Come, there's a flat and sheltered place just over here where we can sit. We don't even have to worry about water, we'll cross a stream just down the slope.”

The mercenary was as good as his word and there was indeed an ideal spot to sit and rest and eat bread and olives next to each other, leaning back against a sun-warmed rock. Lykaon leaned briefly against Alexios's shoulder, almost drowsing after the morning's unaccustomed exertions. “You make a poor pillow with all this armor on.”

“My unfortunate Lykaon. I'll have a chance to take it off again in Athens, just for you.”

“As if the city didn't already sound attractive.”

Alexios smiled. “If Poseidon favors us, it will take about a day to go from Thermopylae to Piraeus. Maybe a little more, maybe a little less. Then an easy walk into Athens along city streets, to Perikles's home, where Hippokrates is staying. Then what we see is up to you.”

“We'd better get going then, hadn't we?”

Getting fluidly to his feet, Alexios extended a hand and helped Lykaon up. The doctor had stiffened up a little during the break, and winced. “I'm afraid I'm not made for this.”

“We can't all be. Stay behind me down the mountain, until we strike the road again. If you fall, I can stop you before a tree does.”

They moved slowly and carefully carefully down the slope with no more serious mishap than Lykaon scuffing an elbow and once, a glimpse of a bear moving through the trees a good distance away. At the bottom of it was a road, and Alexios turned them right, his stride still enviably easy as the sun sank toward the horizon. Finally they came around a rock wall and Lykaon had his first look at the Adrestia, painted in green and gold, riding easily against the ropes tying her to the pier and her own anchor. Her bull figurehead gleamed in the shadows cast by the mountain as the sun set behind it. Thus heartened, Lykaon picked up his pace.

Alexios laughed beside him. “Isn't she beautiful? She more than makes up for her captain's ugly face.”

“I heard that, Commander!” boomed a voice from the bow, and then Lykaon was struggling a little to keep up with Alexios as a figure moved aft and vaulted the railings to land on the pier, coming to meet them.

“Barnabas!” the mercenary cried in reply, clasping the older man's arms. His scarred face was indeed ferociously ugly, and one eye was cloudy with cataracts and scar tissue.

“Eagle Bearer!” Barnabas embraced the younger man, slapping his back. “We've heard such tales! Three battles in three different demes! Ares must favor you, indeed!”

“Less the gods than my own hard work, old man,” said Alexios, unable to keep a grin off his face. “But meet my friend, Lykaon. He's coming with us to Athens. Lykaon, this is Barnabas, captain of the Adrestia and my faithful companion all these months.”

“A friend of the Eagle Bearer is a friend of mine!” declared Barnabas. “Come, Lykaon, let me show you the Adrestia! Athens is an easy sail from here for the Adrestia, you should ask her for something hard!”

Lykaon followed Barnabas obediently, looking over his shoulder to catch a wink from Alexios as the mercenary brought up the rear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've managed to stop blushing.
> 
> Yes, I did in fact go back into the game and actually scout the path by road and then taking the shortcut Alexios and Lykaon take here, and then look up the distance from Delphi to Thermopylae and calculate how fast a person can reasonably walk. In the end it takes them significantly longer than the 5 minutes it will take you in game, but probably less than the time it would take in the real world, although not by much. I probably would have been more obnoxiously accurate but the ORBIS project doesn't seem to be working, or I don't know what I'm doing with it.
> 
> ...no you have a problem with historical research for fic. You.
> 
> PS Barnabas is one of my favorite, if not my number one favorite, NPC in this game. Tags have now been updated.


	9. Black sails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lykaon tries to settle in on board the Adrestia, and finds out that knowing about something is different to seeing it.

By the time Barnabas had finished showing Lykaon the ship and escorted him to where Alexios waited at the stern, the mercenary had stowed everything but what he thought of as his essential weapons. Lykaon leaned on the rail next to him, looking over the deck, as Barnabas came up on his other side and asked, “What are your orders, Commander?”

He clapped Barnabas on the shoulder. “We'll anchor out in the bay for the night, for safety, and leave at dawn. How are the seas? Are Athens and Sparta keeping order, or are they too busy with each other?”

“You heard the Eagle Bearer! Oars out and take us to the middle of the bay for the night!” Barnabas bellowed at the crew before turning back to Alexios and saying at a more reasonable volume, “The great navies don't pay attention to anything but each other, and I'm sorry to tell you that most of the pirates have forgotten the fear the sight of the Adrestia struck into their hearts while you've been going soft on land.”

Alexios hesitated a moment, visibly torn, before saying reluctantly, “It might be better to stay out of fights. I'd like to get Lykaon safely to Athens.”

The scarred captain threw back his head and laughed uproariously, and loudly, making Lykaon wince. “Now I really have heard it all! The Eagle Bearer, who fights like Athena herself, avoiding a battle! You really have been going soft on land, Alexios.”

The mercenary slung an arm around Barnabas's neck, pretending to choke him. “I'll show you soft. I'll take first watch. Go get your rest, old man, so you can get us out of the bay in the morning.”

Barnabas batted Alexios away with the ease of long affection and made his way toward the hold, still chuckling. They heard him call out to another sailor, “Odessa! Did you hear that? Alexios wants us to avoid getting into fights!”

“What?” was the reply, “Has he gone soft?”

Alexios sighed and shook his head, smiling. “I'm afraid there might be barriers to my retirement, my heart.”

Lykaon smiled back, watching the breeze stir his hair and toy with the bright beads there. “I can see that. You must have had a few adventures with this crew.”

“More than a few. Did Barnabas show you sleeping quarters down below? Or since we're anchored for the night, you're welcome to sleep on deck. Most of the crew will.”

“I think I'll sleep out here. It was very...close quarters inside.”

Alexios leaned companionably on the rail next to him. “It's like a prison down there. I usually sleep up here, unless the seas are especially rough or the rain is very hard. Knowing Barnabas he sacrificed half a herd of goats to guarantee fine weather for this trip, though, so we'll hope it worked.”

They watched together as sailors moved about the deck, finding places to settle down for the evening. A man near the bow was playing a pandouris, the sweet sound carrying back to them. Lykaon sighed happily. “Thank you for this. I've...I've always wanted to leave the Chora, but never quite had the courage.”

Alexios reached over to take his hand, twining their fingers together carefully. The leather of the wrappings he wore beneath the guards on his forearms was rough, but his fingers were warm and gentle. “No need to thank me, my heart. I'm happy to have you with me. I've been alone a long time.”

He leaned, carefully, on the mercenary's armored shoulder. “You don't have to be alone anymore. I'd prefer it if you weren't. It was lonely when you weren't there, Alexios.”

Reaching across with his other hand, Alexios turned Lykaon's face toward him and kissed him gently. “I'm sorry I left you alone so much. I should have listened to my own advice when we met. Revenge didn't heal the past. It didn't even heal the present.”

Lykaon squeezed his fingers. “And your doctor told you to hope. It's all right now, my dear.”

He smiled, only a little sadly, and kissed Lykaon again, almost reverently. “I'll try to hope, my heart.”

Lykaon lowered his eyes. “Should we be...doing this? In front of the crew?” A quick glance up found Alexios grinning.

“They've seen much worse. They're sailors, not virgin daughters of rich Athenians.”

The doctor blushed furiously. “I don't think I want you to explain further.”

Alexios kissed him one more time before letting him go. “Get some rest, my heart. I'll sleep beside you when the watch is over and I've woken Barnabas.”

Lykaon got a himation out of his small traveling bundle and wrapped himself in it. His chlamys and Alexios's were folded next to each other in the chest, and feeling a little foolish he took the other man's to use as a pillow, nestling his face against it and inhaling the smell of him. The Adrestia rocked gently at anchor as Alexios's measured tread made the rounds of the deck, his voice a low murmur as he spoke to the sailors on watch with him. Finally, sleep took Lykaon in its arms.

He woke when Alexios thumped down next to him on the deck with a jingle of armor and clatter of weaponry. Lykaon had always been envious of how quickly his lover could fall asleep, and tonight was no exception. Finally, he got up and went down to the deck to look out over the railing in the starlight. Barnabas was up at the bow, talking to an oarsman. A slight woman with a bow on her back arrived and leaned back against the railing next to him. “So, you're the reason hearts are breaking all over the Greek world.”

Lykaon looked over at her, startled. “I beg your pardon?”

“We all wondered why we were pulling into Kirrha or that damned middle of nowhere dock in Therompylae every time Alexios had a day or two to spare. Men and women sighing after him in much better ports all across the Aegean but no, we had to pull into that shithole Kirrha.”

“I...I see.”

The woman grinned at him. “I'm Odessa. Joined the crew in Megaris, when Alexios was still wearing mismatched armor and a patched chitoniskos.”

“Lykaon Arkadiou, of Phokis. I'm pleased to meet you. You've been with the Adrestia a long time, then,” he retreated behind a pleasant social smile, swallowing the lump of jealousy in his throat.

She nodded. “Joined up hoping for adventure, after Alexios helped me out with some problems back home. He's more than delivered. It's much better than the life on my father's farm.”

“He helps a lot of people, doesn't he?”

“Usually for money, to be fair.”

Barnabas's voice interrupted them, brash and loud. “Odessa! You're supposed to be on watch, not enjoying yourself!”

Odessa rolled her eyes and pushed off the rail, sauntering away as Barnabas took her place, clapping Lykaon on the shoulder with an enthusiasm that rattled his teeth. “Well, lad? What do you think of the Adrestia?”

He smiled at the older man, charmed by his enthusiasm. “She's beautiful. I can't wait to sail in the morning.”

“Morning comes faster when you sleep, and Alexios has been trying to pretend he isn't awake since you got up. Go let him get some rest, go!”

Lykaon's face got hot as he blushed and turned toward the stern, Barnabas's chuckle following him. He settled in his place next to Alexios, who snaked out an arm and rested a hand on his hip, blinking sleepily at him. The doctor leaned forward just a little and kissed him softly, murmuring, “Sleep, my dear,” and Alexios's eyes closed again. Lykaon followed him into sleep soon after.

Morning broke bright and clear but with a bite to the wind and fluffy white tops to the wavelets in the bay that suggested the seas weren't as calm as the day before. Lykaon and Alexios ate breakfast with the sailors, a simple meal of unleavened bread on the verge of stale and briny olives with a little hard cheese. Lykaon began to understand why the mercenary was so delighted the first time he'd made teganites for breakfast and set out honey and soft, fresh cheese and walnuts to go with them. Then it was time to go, the oarsmen moving below decks to take their seats and the archers lining up on deck, with Barnabas's lieutenants lining up to pass orders along.

The doctor stood next to Alexios and the captain, hands clasped on the rail and leaning forward into the wind as they rowed smoothly out of the bay and swung into the straight between Euboea and Lokris. Once they were fairly into open water, Barnabas called out, the oars retracted, sailors swarmed, and the great sail, black and emblazoned with the head of a bull, lowered. Alexios laughed aloud. “You put my sail back on!”

“Well of course I did! We couldn't greet a demigod flying some anonymous sail! Let the pirates fear us again!”

Lykaon's eyebrows went up and he mouthed “Demigod?” at Alexios, who rolled his eyes and shook his head. Barnabas laughed and slapped the mercenary on the back.

“He'll deny it, but no mere human would carry Zeus's eagle and answer the prayers of mortals! He defeated two Minotaurs, the Cyclops, Medusa, and the Sphynx! And the entire Cult of Kosmos!”

Lykaon thought his eyebrows might be stuck somewhere in his hairline. “Two Minotaurs?”

Alexios rubbed the back of his neck. “It's, uh, a bit of a long story. Remind me to tell you in Athens. Barnabas, keep your eyes and your attention on the horizon.”

“Oh I don't need to, Commander. There will be a pirate behind that small island.”

The mercenary swore creatively. “No room to outrun them here, their lookout will have seen us already.” He yanked a spare shield off its storage on the railing and grabbed Lykaon by the upper arm with the other hand, steering him toward the bench behind them. “Sit here, on the deck. Cover yourself with this shield. Try not to catch on fire. I'll have us out of this as soon as I can.”

Lykaon's eyes grew wide and he grabbed for Alexios before the man could rush away. “Be careful.”

“I will. I always am.” A swift kiss and then it was only the mercenary who returned to the rail next to Barnabas, roaring orders for the sail to be tied up and the oars brought out. The archers readied themselves and, right on cue, a black-sailed ship slid out from behind the small island ahead off to their port side.

The Adrestia swung and sped, intent on catching their opponent with her ram. Arrows clattered off deck as the other ship sought to fend them off, then a bellowed call to “Brace!” was all the warning Lykaon had before the slam and grind of impact followed by an enormous splintering sound that seemed to fill the world. Alexios continued to call orders not far away, his voice pitched to carry as he chivvied the Adrestia's archers into launching volley after volley.

And then, finally, one last sickening swing as the mercenary called to his crew, “We'll board the bastards! On my leap!”

Lykaon moved, but too slowly to catch him as he jumped off the raised platform at the Adrestia's stern down to land among the crew. The doctor could only watch, heart in his throat and hands white-knuckled on the railing, as Alexios rushed to the side of the Adrestia and leapt, followed by the lieutenants and a few of the warriors, to the deck of the burning pirate ship.

A suprisingly gentle hand landed on his shoulder and Barnabas said, in a low voice, “He'll be fine, lad, and fight all the harder knowing he's keeping you safe.”

Lykaon managed a weak smile. “It's just...one thing to know that he's out here, doing these things. It's another thing to see it happen. Why aren't the crew helping him more?”

“Ah. You've never seen him fight before, have you. They'd just get in his way, lad.”

He couldn't pry his eyes away from the flash of Alexios's broken spear through the smoke, the only thing that let him track his lover through what appeared to be mayhem. The man was a deadly, seemly reckless whirl through his opponents, his own crew occupying themselves keeping the few enemy sailors bright enough to try coming in behind him off his back. Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Lykaon, the fight was over. The Adrestia's sailors grabbed what they could carry and threw it back to their ship, leaping back after it as Alexios stalked the deck.

“Give him a moment when he gets back,” Barnabas murmured. “Let his head clear. Sometimes the battle takes him.”

Lykaon nodded wordlessly, still watching, until finally the last of the Adrestia's crew was back on board and Alexios made the leap home himself from the canting deck of the sinking pirate ship. The rowers put out the oars and pushed them off from the hulk as he came aft, until finally he was coming up the stairs beside the doctor, who managed to pry his fingers from the railing and turn to grab for Alexios's hands. They spoke almost simultaneously.

“Are you unhurt?”

“I'm all right, my heart. None of the blood is mine. And you? You're not hurt?”

He nodded and Alexios freed a hand and slid it to the back of his neck, pulling his head down a little to kiss his forehead. “Good. I can only kill them once, and that wouldn't have been enough if they'd hurt you.” Lykaon leaned his forehead on Alexios's shoulder and put his hands on the sides of his waist, feeling the other man's arms come around him. “Shhhh, my heart, we're alive and unhurt to fight another day.”

The doctor said weakly, “I should look at your side. You've probably pulled it open again.”

Alexios cradled the back of his head. “It will be fine until we're safely in port in Piraeus tomorrow morning.”

Lykaon took a deep breath and lifted his head. Alexios leaned back just far enough to look at him. “I'm all right, I am. I was just worried for you.”

Alexios smiled gently at him. “Never fear for me. Just ask Barnabas, I'm Ares incarnated and invincible in a fight.”

He managed a shaky laugh. “I'll try to remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer update! I'm trying to go with longer chapters but also not actually stop, so if it's a choice between short chapters and no update, I'll tend to go with short chapters instead.
> 
> It's vaguely 250km-ish by sea from Thermopylae to Piraeus, and a leisurely pace for a rowed trireme was 6 knots. That would get them there in roughly 22 hours. Of course, you can't have the rowers going for 22 hours straight -- once you're out on the open sea and not engaged in battle the ship would be dependent on its sail and the wind. Actual triremes didn't really try the whole boarding thing, preferring to just ram the other ship and tear an enormous gash in the side and sink it. The extremely professional Athenian Navy had it down to a freakin science, right down to knowing how fast they had to be going given various angles of approach in order to rip open the opposing ship. Triremes also lowered their masts before a battle, though, to avoid giving the opponent something to grab with grappling hooks just in case they DID decide to try that whole "board and slaughter the entire crew" thing.
> 
> I continue to not care about period-appropriate homophobia. If we have a protagonist who can telepathically commune with an eagle in a pinch, then by all the gods we can have people not care that he's sleeping with an adorable doctor.
> 
> A chitoniskos was what fighters wore under their armor. Presumably it didn't require pinning at the shoulders, because I can't imagine having metal pins bearing the weight of your armor would be at all comfortable.
> 
> PS Someone remind me later that I gave Lykaon a father so I could give him a patronymic. I'll probably forget.


	10. Continue firm and constant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving in Athens, satisfying one hunger, Alexios could wish Lykaon's memory weren't so good.

The sail down again, settled at the rail with Alexios on one side and Barnabas on the other, Lykaon felt his shaking subside as he began to enjoy the sensation of being out to sea and carried by the wind and waves. After a little while, Barnabas nudged his shoulder and pointed off to one side. “There's the salt pits of Lokris! The Eagle Bearer fulfilled a prophecy there. It was a sad, sad story though, ending with a young man gouging his own eyes out on the beach.” He pointed to the land on the other side of the ship. “And that island is Euboea, where he defeated the evil Kingfisher and his band of thugs, slew the Hind of Keryneia, and assassinated a Cultist of Kosmos who called himself the Centaur.”

“Zeus's balls, Barnabas, are you going to tell him every story from every port we sail past?”

Lykaon smiled. “Well, since I only heard one of those from you, I'm happy the Captain is telling them.”

Alexios rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, laughing ruefully. “I got myself into this. Barnabas, if you have time when you're not embarrassing me, I thought we might make Keos before dark.”

“Keos, Commander? If you're sure. Did you tell him about Keos?”

Lykaon looked expectantly at Alexios. “No, he hasn't told me about Keos.”

Looking out over the water, Alexios said, “The north end, where we're pulling in, is a pirate refuge. Run by Xenia, who controls most of the black market in these waters. She helped me find my mother, and gave me refuge for a time. I helped her find shiny gold things, and rescued her brother after he'd managed to get himself stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

The doctor blinked. “We're pulling into a pirate port?”

Alexios shrugged. “Safer than trying to sail through the night if the pirates are out. My friendship with Xenia doesn't get us immunity from the ships that pay her tribute, unfortunately.”

“What would you do if I weren't here?”

Barnabas laughed. “We'd sail through the night and send any bastard who tried us down to the bottom!” Alexios shot him a look that could have killed him on the spot.

Lykaon nodded. “We should do that, then. I don't want you thinking you have to change everything because of me.”

Turning toward him, Alexios slid an arm around his waist. “And I don't want you getting hurt.” The mercenary glanced over Lykaon's head at Barnabas, who was still chuckling, and lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. “It would gut me if you were harmed, Lykaon.”

He reached up to take Alexios's face gently in his hands. “I know, my dear. But I believe that you and the Adrestia can keep me safe, and besides, I'm not as fragile as I look. If we keep going, we can make Athens early and get settled in and rest on dry land before you show me the city.”

For a long moment Alexios studied his face, as if committing it to memory or searching for something, before finally nodding. “All right. We'll sail through the night. Of course, this means ship food for dinner instead of a reasonable meal in Keos.”

Laughing, Lykaon kissed him lightly. “Ah, there's the problem. We'll live, and get to the city all the sooner.”

The arm around his waist tightened for a moment, then released him before being pressed against armor could go from uncomfortable to painful. “On your head be it. Stale bread and dry cheese and whatever swill Barnabas was convinced to buy by some fraud of a wine merchant.”

The captain made an outraged noise. “That was the one time, and how was I to know that someone I'd known for years would decide to cheat me!”

The Adrestia sailed on as the sun sank toward the land on their right.

* * *

Piraeus was a busy port, even with the sun barely up over the horizon. Sailors and merchants crowded the docks, and when they finally made it off the docks and onto the road leading to Athens, it too was crowded with merchants and their customers. Lykaon was distracted in the first few moments by a papyrus vendor, then by an apothecary with a selection of herbs and preparations, and it wasn't until after he had spoken at length with a man selling copies of scrolls from a variety of sources that he noticed it was Barnabas next to him and not Alexios.

They found the mercenary a little way down the road, surprisingly inconspicous in older, much repaired and very minimal leather armor he'd changed into before they left the Adrestia, explaining that looking too prosperous in the city made him itch like he had a target painted on him. He had a new bag slung on his back and was haggling for warm bread stuffed with slices of lamb. Turning as he heard their footsteps, he handed food to each of them. “To fortify us after the miserable diet on the ship.”

A few steps later, he paused to buy a small pot of figs in honey, which he tucked almost reverently into the pouch at his belt. His final stop was for a handful of small fried treats made from flour and honey, fried crisp. He offered one to Lykaon, who smiled and shook his head. “No thank you, I don't have quite your sweet tooth, my dear.”

Not long after that they were through the gates and headed into Athens proper. Barnabas shook his head. “This is a terrible way to bring someone in for the first time, Alexios. First the heights obscure the Acropolis from the sea, and then the port and Athens itself does.”

“Faster and safer, though,” replied the mercenary, dusting off his hands. “You can see the Acropolis fine from Perikles's house. Did you send word ahead?”

“I sent off a messenger as soon as the Adrestia was in reach of the pier. They'll know we're coming.”

Alexios nodded absently, his eyes on the streets as he wove through the crowds of Athens. Lykaon could barely restrain his joy and felt like a schoolboy escaped from a harsh tutor, off to have illicit adventures. Even the cries of the vegetable sellers in the neighborhoods they passed through were a delight.

After a trip that was simultaneously long and much too short, they arrived at a gate in a high wall with a pair of guards in Athenian army uniforms standing at the sides. Alexios nodded to them and passed through, Lykaon next to him and Barnabas on their heels, and then Lykaon stopped dead when he got a look at the size of the house they had arrived at. “We're staying _here_?”

Alexios grinned at him. “Perikles's son has been gracious to give us use of the house for as long as we might wish. I think he's just worried about what we can tell people about his mother. Come inside, we'll evict anyone squatting in the upstairs rooms.”

But there was no need for evictions. As they stepped inside, a servant intercepted them to greet Alexios and tell him the upstairs rooms had been prepared. Barnabas headed toward the inner courtyard where they could hear voices as the servant led them through graciously appointed halls with expensive carpets hushing their steps, up a set of stairs, and bowed them out onto the roof.

“Don't look yet,” Alexios instructed Lykaon, leading him to another door. “Eyes on your feet.”

Laughing but obedient, Lykaon followed with his eyes on the ground. The door opened onto a large room with a bed, low table, and couches. Alexios slung his bag on the table, set down the pouch containing the pot of honeyed figs more carefully, and then led him up one more set of stairs onto a covered balcony, stepping aside. Lykaon froze, eyes going wide, to see the bright colors of the Parthenon and the sun reflecting off the golden statue of Athena. “By all the gods, Alexios, look at it! It's more beautiful than I'd heard!”

Alexios came to stand behind him, sliding arms around his waist and resting his chin on Lykaon's shoulder. “I can't wait for you to see it, especially the temple. After we can go to the Pnyx and throw rotten fruit at philosophers.”

The doctor laughed, leaning back comfortably into the other man's strength. “I hardly know where to go first. There's so much I've wished to see.”

“You have plenty of time. I have nowhere to be but with you.”

Lykaon twisted in Alexios's arms until they were facing, and said in a low voice, “And there's an enormous bed down there.”

“There is.”

“You should be in it. And not wearing this chiton.”

The mercenary flushed a little, tilting his head to kiss Lykaon lingeringly. “In such a hurry?”

“Yes. You need your side looked at, to make sure you didn't do something horrible to it.”

Alexios groaned, letting his head fall back. Lykaon kissed his throat affectionately and stepped back. “Go on. I'm right behind you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update but still got 1500 words in! Woo! 
> 
> In the real world, Perikles had 2 legitimate sons by his first wife. He divorced her (offering her to another husband, don't talk to me about ancient Athenians) in order to take up with Aspasia, who gave him a third son. His older sons never particularly liked her. Just before Perikles's death, the law was changed in Athens such that his third son was eligible to be an Athenian citizen and his heir. Which was lucky, because both his older sons died in the same plague that killed Perikles in 429 BC, predeceasing him by a few months. His son by Aspasia, now legitimated and his heir, got his property presumably.
> 
> Of course we see none of this in the game. I'll cut Ubisoft some slack because I guess you can't include all of history if you're trying to make a clear and compelling narrative. Still, Aspasia was at one point accused of corrupting Athenian society (she was from Miletos) and Perikles burst into tears at her defense. He must have loved her.


	11. Mine eyes dazzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting friends, visiting another, vanity, vanity, all is vanity!
> 
> HERE THERE BE SPOILER. Proceed at your own risk.

Alexios stretched, languid, on the bed and let Lykaon fuss over him. The wound in his side didn't trouble him much, and he hadn't acquired many new bruises at sea, but the fussing made Lykaon happy and the doctor's hands were warm and kind. It was relaxing, in its way, minus the odd twinge as Lykaon examined his side.

“You did reopen it a little. It's mostly healed behind, if you can't stay out of trouble I'll have to ask Hippokrates about sewing the front of it shut to give it a chance to heal.”

He smiled and sat up, patting the bed beside him. “Lykaiskon, one more scar won't matter, and it's not going to kill me. You worry too much.”

The doctor sat, leaning into him. “Let me worry over you a little. Someone has to, you're clearly not going to take care to keep yourself in one piece.”

They rested there a moment before they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Alexios muttered an oath and called, “Coming!” as he wrapped his chiton around himself and belted it, not bothering to fasten the material at the shoulders.

Hippokrates was on the other side of the door. Lykaon stood to greet him, a smile of genuine pleasure on his face. “It's good to see you again.”

“Indeed, I'm glad you made it safely to Athens,” the older physician said, coming in to seat himself on one of the couches. “I apologize for intruding, but I wanted to greet the two of you. Alexios, I see you've managed to aggravate the wound in your side.”

Alexios rolled his eyes, sitting next to Lykaon on the other couch. “I've already been lectured, you can spare me.”

Hippokrates refused to be needled. “It's good you have someone to look after you. You should know, by the way, that while Alkibiades is no longer in residence he apparently has planned a symposium in the house this evening to welcome you to Athens.” He held up a hand to forestall Alexios's stream of profanity while Lykaon's eyebrows rose. “There are friendly names on the guest list, and of course Sokrates and Aristophanes and I will be here.”

“Perhaps I'll wear this.”

“Lykaon, I'm charging you with getting him dressed in something mildly respectable.”

Lykaon laughed. “I'll do my best. Getting him to wear something fit for a symposium in Athens might be a challenge, though.”

“Your best is all we ask. Come downstairs when you have a moment and I'll introduce you to Aristophanes.”

The bald physician made his way out, and Lykaon stood. “Come, my dear, introduce me to the playwright. And then we'd better find the agora, we packed so lightly I'd like to look for more appropriate clothing.”

He stood and took Lykaon's hand. “One thing, at least, I might be able to fix. Even if I can't stop Alkibiades from throwing his ridiculous parties.” He led Lykaon to the bed and sat down, snagging his bag from the floor and opening it. With a small flourish, he produced a folded length of cloth, deep blue with a border patterned in madder red. Before the doctor could recover from his surprise, he brought out a longer length, plain but entirely deep red from madder dye. He smiled with satisfaction. “Some of us were thinking ahead while others were distracted by bookshops.”

Lykaon shook them out, blue chiton and red himation, and rubbed the finely woven linen between his fingers. “They're beautiful, love, thank you.”

Alexios smiled. “Oh, I'm not done.” Reaching into the bag once more, he brought out a linen-wrapped package and unwrapped a circlet and armband, gleaming softly in gold.

The doctor blinked. “This is too much, Alexios, I don't know what to say.”

The mercenary stood and snaked an arm around his waist, pulling their bodies flush. “I told you I'd appease your vanity,” he said, tilting his head to kiss Lykaon. “I won't have you feeling plain at one of these ridiculous gatherings.”

He wound his arms around Alexios's shoulders, laughing. “I'm overwhelmed by your enthusiasm. Humor me for the one evening, darling man.”

Easing backward, Alexios made a disgruntled noise near his ear, nuzzling at his neck. “Only for you. And so I can show you off to all the best of Athenian society.”

“Mmm. So I'm to be paraded like a captive bride, then?”

That got him a laugh, and then they were falling as Alexios deliberately flopped backwards onto the bed, dragging Lykaon down on top of him. “More like you're there to keep the uncivilized Spartan mercenary on a leash,” the uncivilized Spartan in question grinned up at him.

Lykaon shook his head and kissed Alexios thoughtfully. “What are _you_ wearing, though? You can't seriously be planning to attend a symposium in these frayed, undyed things you wander around in normally.”

Running his hands up Lykaon's back, Alexios sighed. “I'll find something so I don't embarrass you. But if we skip the trip to the agora, we have hours to waste.”

“Except they're expecting us downstairs,” the doctor replied regretfully, running fingertips over his lover's neck and shoulder muscles and raising goosebumps. Muttering something that was probably profane, Alexios tilted his head to the side in invitation, offering more of his skin. Lykaon leaned down and kissed his collar bone. “Come along, my dear. Introduce me to your friends, and be a polite social creature for once.” He rolled off the mercenary and to his feet, smiling serenely.

Still muttering, Alexios got to his feet. “You'll be the death of me, I swear.”

“A far gentler death than the one you usually court, at least. But I don't think anyone has ever died of having to delay satisfaction of their lust long enough to be polite.”

“There's a first time for everything.” Alexios dug fibulae out of a belt pouch and pinned up the shoulders of his chiton, heading for the door with Lykaon beside him. “They'll be in the library.”

Following the sound of voices brought them to a medium-sized room lined with shelves that were filled with scrolls. Around the central table stood several men, two of whom Lykaon didn't know. One of the strangers, an older man with grey hair, looked up, his face brightening when they came through the door.

“Herodotos!” Alexios met the man with an embrace, then clasped his shoulders. “I wondered where you were when you weren't here to greet us. Hippokrates, you sly fox, you didn't tell me he was here. Come, Herodotos, this is my close friend Lykaon Arkadiou of Phokis. Lykaon, this is Herodotos Lyxous, of Halikarnassos.”

Lykaon clasped the historian's offered hand. “I've heard so much about you, sir.”

Herodotos smiled, wrinkles fanning out from the corners of his eyes. “Sadly we heard rather little about you, although I believe the mystery of the Adrestia's frequest visits to Kirrha may now be explained. And here Barnabas had hoped our Alexios was merely becoming extremely pious.”

The other stranger, a lanky younger man with curly hair, arrived beside Herodotos and reached to clasp Lykaon's hand as well. “I'm Aristophanes Philippou, of Kydathenaion. A playwright and poet.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Lykaon replied, as Alexios drifted from his side to pour himself a cup of wine at the table and greet Barnabas and Sokrates. “Will the two of you be attending this evening?”

Aristophanes laughed. “We wouldn't miss it. Herodotos will be there to make sure Alexios doesn't start any fights, and I'll be there hoping he fails. These things are so much less interesting when you don't have a Spartan attending to scoff at us all.”

Herodotos took Lykaon companionably by the arm and led them to the table, saying, “I haven't failed yet, and since I rather suspect this young man is on my side I can hardly expect to fail tonight.”

Barnabas sucked air between his teeth thoughtfully. “I've got a drachma that says he throws a punch at Alkibiades before the night is out.”

Alexios crossed his arms on his chest. “I'm _right here_.”

Lykaon moved to stand next to him, shoulders just barely touching. “They have so little faith in your self-control,” he said. “My poor, untrusted Alexios.”

“Do the two of you have plans for this afternoon?” Herodotos asked solicitously, to cut off whatever reply Alexios was about to make.

The mercenary shrugged, his arms tightening a little. “Nothing firm. I thought I might go to Kerameikos and leave an offering to Phoibe, but it doesn't have to be today.”

Lykaon shifted his weight to lean lightly on Alexios's shoulder, raising a hand to rest it between his shoulder blades. The muscles under his fingers were hard with tension. “I don't mind going with you,” he said.

Eyes dark, Alexios looked over at him as if he were the only other person in the room, and said softly, “I'd like that.”

“Well, that's settled then,” said Sokrates, a touch too heartily. “We'll let the two of you head off, as long as you promise to be back for the symposium.”

“Oh and do see me when you get back, Alexios,” added Herodotos. “I've some news that might interest you.”

Alexios nodded and turned toward the door, Lykaon staying right beside him.

“Don't let him get arrested!” someone called behind them.

* * *

The walk to Kerameikos took them across the city, past the foot of the Akropolis and through the agora. Alexios stopped for a packet of small cakes that he tucked into his belt pouch, promising Lykaon they'd stop for a longer visit on the way back. Another few minutes walk took them into the cemetery, and he went unerringly to a beautifully carved and painted stele depicting a small girl with an eagle. A short verse along the base declared to the world that here lay Phoibe, beloved little sister of the Eagle-Bearer.

Alexios bowed his head, closing his eyes as he laid a hand on top of the monument. Lykaon stood close, an arm around his shoulders. They remained that way in silence for some minutes, the mercenary's breath shallow and hitching. Finally he released the stele and turned, resting his forehead on Lykaon's shoulder. The slighter man held him tightly, murmuring softly, “It's all right, my dear. You're not alone, I'm here.” But it seemed a long time before he could pick his head up and leave the small cakes as an offering at the base of the stele, along with one of Ikaros's primary feathers. He scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of one hand, and with a small, crooked smile Lykaon offered him the corner of his himation.

“These things do have their uses, you know.”

Alexios managed the ghost of a laugh. “I'll keep it in mind. Thank you for coming with me, Lykaiskon, my heart. I haven't been back except once since Sokrates and Hippokrates buried her.”

Lykaon nodded, taking Alexios's hand as they made their way back toward the agora. “I remember you arrived at my house in the middle of a storm not long afterward.”

“I didn't know where else to go.”

The doctor squeezed his hand. “I wasn't complaining.”

It seemed to take no time at all before they arrived back at the agora, Alexios shaking himself like a dog and taking a deep breath before they pushed into the busy marketplace. Lykaon insisted on stopping at a cloth merchant's stall, critically appraising the lengths of fabric before selecting a chiton and in green with blue wave patterns on the selvedges for Alexios. The mercenary retaliated by buying him a necklace and fibulae in gold to match the circlet and arm bad waiting at home. Lykaon's exasperated look was met with exaggerated innocence. “What? I command outrageous fees. I live on a boat. I own all the armor and weapons I need to supply myself into the next life.”

“Fine, fine.”

Tucking the jewelry into his belt, Alexios snagged his hand, twining their fingers together. “You know your vanity won't let you turn me down, anyway.”

Lykaon laughed. “You know me too well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I forgot to mention fibulae when I was talking about clothing. They're the (small) pins that were used to pin the shoulders of chitons, larger versions pinned the himation and chlamys. Some were ornately decorated, some were quite plain. They were something like giant safety pins.
> 
> Declining Greek nouns is still a son of a bitch, let me tell you. "Lykaiskon" is, if I am remembering correctly (and I may not be) the diminutive version of Lykaon's name, which is to say the pet name/affectionate version. Classical Greek was not a neat and tidy language, unlike Classical Latin. Give me five declensions and the ablative but all of it nice and regular and not requiring finding a stem and figuring out how to turn someone's name neuter - because that ALSO was part of making it diminutive. Study Latin, that's my advice.
> 
> All of this is entirely aside from transliterating names (switching them from the Greek alphabet to the Latin alphabet we use). I have tended to be more consistent with academic convention than the game's convention (using Boiotia instead of Boeotia) because the game will err on the side of familiarity, which means in some cases erring on the side of later spellings that will be more familiar to modern eyes. Much like they called Bayek's village Siwa in the last game, and not Sekht-Imauw, which is the name Bayek would have known it by.
> 
> Tomorrow or the next day: SYMPOSIUM.


	12. Let's get this party started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it really a party if no one starts a fight?

Returning to the house, they found it abuzz with last-minute preparations. Alexios eyed it all both wearily and warily, leading Lykaon up the stairs. He came to a halt in the doorway, so suddenly that the doctor put a hand on his back to keep from running into him. Lykaon couldn't see his face, but his voice was tight and cold when he said, “Alkibiades.”

“Well, well,” said a voice in the louche accent of an upper class Athenian who'd had a few drinks already. “They said you were out, they didn't say you were out getting company, Alexios.”

The mercenary took a step to the side, revealing a blond man in a carelessly draped himation advancing on them. “Lykaon Arkadiou of Phokis, Alkibiades Kleiniou of Skambonidae.”

Alkibiades looked Lykaon over in a frank manner. “They _do_ grown them nicely in the provinces, don't they, Alexios. No wonder you haven't been back to Athens.”

Alexios took a half step forward, crowding the blond man's personal space. “What did you want, Alkibiades?”

“Your body, as usual. And I've a little...business proposition.”

The larger man shook his head, crossing his arms on his chest. “My services aren't on offer. In any capacity.” Lykaon could see his right hand fist where it was tucked under his left elbow and hesitated, wanting to intervene but not sure how. Alexios's body was rapidly becoming a coil of tension.

“ _Don't_ tell me you've retired and gone all serious on me like Sokrates. We used to have such fun!”

“And now we don't. Those times are over, Alkibiades. And now that you know that, you can leave.”

“You _wound_ me, Alexiskos! I thought we could greet each other properly, you could listen to the little favor I need, it would be just like old times.”

“Go find your wife if that's the kind of greeting you're looking for. You won't find it here.” Alexios pivoted just enough to give Alkibiades room to get by. The younger man swept past, slamming the door behind him.

Lykaon looked over at Alexios with raised eyebrows. The mercenary shook his head, took a deep breath, and let his arms fall, muttering, “That metrokoites” under his breath.

“So that was Alkibiades.”

“That was Alkibiades.”

“And you're...retired now?”

Alexios raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Lykaon, these Athenians... I killed Kleon. They've watched me bring down demes and leaders all over Hellas.” He paused, taking a breath, and came over to rest his hands gently on Lykaon's shoulders. “They watched me nearly bring down Athens. If they think I'm a threat, they will want a way to stop me being one. They'll see you as a weapon to be used against me, and that will mean you're in danger. If something happens to you, I will tear their city down and burn it for your funeral pyre and throw myself onto it.”

Lykaon nodded, reaching out to gather Alexios into his arms. “I understand, my love. I don't want either of us in danger.”

Alexios slowly relaxed into his embrace, resting his forehead against the doctor's. “I couldn't bear it if something happened to you because of me. I already failed Phoibe. I can't fail you, too.”

Rubbing his back, Lykaon said gently, “You didn't fail Phoibe, and nothing is going to happen to me. We're going to have a lovely evening, and tomorrow you can show me the Akropolis and the Pnyx and anywhere else I should see. Then we can think about going somewhere else, whether it's back to Phokis or to the Asklepion in Argolis, or anywhere the Adrestia can take us.”

Alexios closed his eyes, murmuring, “I believe you about everything except the lovely evening. I just worry, my heart.”

“I know you do. I'll try not to worry you more than necessary. In the meantime, we should get cleaned up for the symposium.”

“Did I ever tell you that Perikles used to avoid his own symposiums? He'd hide up here in these very rooms.”

Lykaon laughed. “You, my dear, are not Perikles. How am I to make a splash in Athens society if I don't have a wild Spartan on my arm?”

Alexios kissed him, softly but insistently, lingering until they were both breathing a little faster. “By being charming, educated, and immaculately dressed.”

“Flatterer. But you can't deny me the chance to be known as the man who can keep the uncivilized Spartan on a leash.”

“Only for you,” Alexios murmured against his lips, finally letting him go and stepping back.

Lykaon insisted on combing out Alexios's hair before putting the braids and beads back in, leading to more grumbling. He found a fibula of his own, the back decorated with a disc that looked like a shield, to pin the mercenary's chiton at the shoulder, and a belt woven in a blue and white wave pattern before declaring himself satisfied.

“You're sure I can't fasten both shoulders?”

“Shhh. I like looking at your chest. Humor me for one evening.”

Alexios grinned. “I could leave both sides down.”

The doctor laughed, dragging his fingers over the bare side of his chest. “That would be too uncivilized. We'll stick with this.”

Catching his his hand and kissing the palm, Alexios murmured against the skin, “You'll be the death of me.”

Lykaon reached up with the other hand and touched his cheek. “Never. One evening looking fashionable and making polite conversation never killed anyone.”

“There's a first time for everything.”

* * *

By the time Alexios stopped being an obstruction and they descended to the party, the inner courtyard was crowded with guests, banquet tables, and the musicians. They made a slow circuit of the room, Alexios introducing Lykaon to those he knew. They'd almost made it to Herodotos when suddenly the mercenary froze. “Ma Apollo Karneos, that metrokoites Alkibiades has invited Nikias. Is he trying to start a civil war?”

“Who's Nikias?”

“If you remember, Hippokrates mentioned him. He believes that democracy has been a failure, and that the nobility should rule Athens again. Many people oppose him. To see him in Perikles's house...”

Lykaon nodded, sipping from his wine cup. “It seems to be a deliberate insult.”

“It's either that or Alkibiades trying to be funny.”

At that moment Herodotos spotted them and made his way over with a smile. “Gentlemen! Lykaon, you've not only gotten him dressed appropriately, but gotten him downstairs in a reasonably prompt fashion. I'm very impressed.”

“It took some bribery,” Lykaon replied with a laugh, “but it was worth it. Although I think he was right about avoiding the philosophers in their corner. Sokrates seems to be driving people to outraged yelling already.”

“Oh, well, that happens whenever someone tries to talk to Sokrates,” the older man said. “Alexios, I have some intriguing news for you, by the way.”

The mercenary paused, about to drain his cup of wine. “Oh?”  
“Yes, I was in the agora two days ago, and word had come in that there's some beast haunting Andros.”

Alexios drained the cup of wine and handed it to a passing servant. “Why was anyone even on the island?”

“I didn't ask. But what's _most_ interesting is that the ship's captain I was speaking to said that it was one of the cyclopes. I thought perhaps since you already defeated Brontes the Thunderer, that if it's true, it must be Steropes of the Lightning, or perhaps Arges.”

Lykaon watched uneasily as Alexios's eyes lit. “Oh no, no, no. _If_ such a thing exists there is no reason for you to go and fight it, my dear.”

The mercenary grinned. “Oh Brontes definitely existed. I can show you a scar I got from a stalactite that fell from the roof of his cave. If this is one of his brothers... Do you think it relates to the cavern there, Herodotos?”

The historian shrugged. “You know far more of the cavern on Andros than I do. But if you're going to go look into it, I'd like to come along.”

Lykaon cleared his throat and Alexios started and glanced at him guiltily. “I'll, ah, need to discuss it with Lykaon before I make plans to go and investigate. But if I do go, I won't leave without you, old friend.”

Herodotos nodded. “And now, you might wish to move on quickly. I see Alkibiades and his wife headed this way. I'll distract them while you escape.”

They quickly moved on, Lykaon turning to Alexios to hiss, “You do not need to fight legendary monsters. If they even exist.”

“Well, it's not _need_ , no, but it might be fun. And I could show you wonders such as you've never seen, my heart.”

“I don't need to see wonders at the cost of you being killed!”

“Ah, Euripedes! How is the theater business?”

Lykaon shot Alexios a dirty look at the well-timed interruption and put his social smile back on to be introduced to the playwright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minimal update due to a migraine -- I can't look at the screen much although I had more to do!
> 
> "Metrokoites" was first used in writing by the poet Hipponax about a century before Alexios would have existed, and means "motherfucker". Hipponax used it to refer to a sculptor who had insulted him. In fact Hipponax was generally profane and obscene and is a great source of Ancient Greek swearing and weird ass sexual rites. And I do not use "weird ass" lightly. Really breaks up the boring translations of Homer.
> 
> Apollo Karneios was arguably the most important deity in Sparta -- Apollo of the Shepherds, roughly translated. The theory is that a much older god of herdsmen was carried forward and attached to Apollo before Sparta was, well, quite so very Spartan.
> 
> If it hasn't become obvious, this is more or less my NaNo project. I think I'm behind on wordcount -- there was a false start I scrapped although I may throw part of it in the drabbles. Thank you everyone for the kind comments! I'm trying to teach myself to sit down and write every day regardless of whatever else is going on. Your encouragement means a lot to this huge history dork.


	13. Shouldn't be so complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight breaks out, but not where Alexios wanted. Barnabas is embarrassing. Sokrates is speechless, for once.

It was a long night. Lykaon wasn't accustomed to staying up until dawn, and Alexios didn't usually do it unless the situation involved stabbing someone. He might have dragged Lykaon upstairs long before, but Herodotos's news lay uneasily between them, and he wasn't particularly anxious to have the discussion he knew was coming. Trying to maintain conversations while simultaneously avoiding Alkibiades, Nikias, and Sokrates kept them occupied, but eventually guests were filtering out or falling asleep on couches, and there was nothing left but to retire to the rooms upstairs.

Alexios began shedding the chiton on the balcony, drawing a laugh from the other man. “You'd looked civilized for too long, I take it?”

“New clothes are always stiff and itchy. I feel naked without a weapon anyway, I might as well _be_ naked.”

Lykaon snorted, unwinding his himation and folding it and setting it aside before picking up the green chiton and folding that neatly, too. “Either your sword or nudity would certainly have gotten you some attention in that crowd.”

“I really think I deserve some sort of reward for being civilized and sociable all evening.”

“Fine, I won't smother you in your sleep for even considering going after whatever beast Herodotos was talking about.”

Alexios sighed and turned away. “Lykaon...”

The doctor shook his head. “I can't believe you'd even think about it. Whatever it is, it's _dangerous_ , Alexios.”

The mercenary crossed his arms, the muscles in his back taut and outlined with tension. “I've fought the same or worse before, and I'm still standing here. Have a little faith in me.”

“I have plenty of faith in you! But I have none in the Fates. These creatures you fight only have to be lucky once, but you have to keep on being lucky, every time you go into battle. I won't lose you, Alexiskos.”

He turned at that, uncrossing his arms and making an open-handed gesture. “You're not going to! It's one fight, with one opponent. I'm _good_ at this, my heart. There's no one better. What if someone else lands there and gets themselves killed? Someone's husband or son or brother?”

Lykaon wrapped his arms tightly around himself. “You say that like my heart didn't die a little every time I sent you out, knowing this time you might not come back, but letting you go anyway. You say that like you aren't the breath in my lungs and the blood in my veins.”

Alexios flinched and came nearer, arms open in an offer that Lykaon gratefully accepted, resting against his chest in the circle of his arms. He said softly, “Lykaiskon, I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt you so.” His callous-roughened thumbs rubbed gentle circles on Lykaon's back. “I just...you're a healer. That's how you make the world better. This is how I do it. So that healers and children and historians don't get eaten.”

The doctor rested his head on Alexios's shoulder, burying his face against his neck. “You don't have to do it. You've done _enough_ , my dear, I don't know how to make you believe that.”

“Shhhh,” Alexios stroked his hair. “Come to bed, Lykaiskon, we're both tired. Everything will look clearer after some sleep and some reasonable food.”

Lykaon sighed. “There you are being the practical, reasonable one again. Surely this portends some terrible occurance.”

“Sleep. It portends sleep.” He backed them both toward the bed, step by step, then carefully eased them both down onto it. He quietly got Lykaon out of his chiton and folded it, setting it aside, then curled his body around the other man's, and wrapped his arms snugly around him. “I'm not going anywhere without you, my heart,” he murmured. “What is it you always tell me? I'm here, you're safe. I've got you. Sleep now.”

Lykaon nestled back against him, breathing evening out slowly as the tension bled out of his body. But it was a long time before either one of them slept.

* * *

When Alexios woke, the other side of the bed was empty and cold and it seemed his heart stopped and emptiness yawned in his chest, threatening to swallow him. He grabbed for his soft and comfortable elderly chiton and belted it around his waist on the way out the door, not bothering to fasten it at his shoulders. When he hit the bottom of the stairs, he heard voices, and then Lykaon's laugh, and his knees went weak. He slid down the wall to sit on the lowest stair, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, breathing and waiting for the panic to recede. A pass of his hand across his face reminded him to shave before he actually grew a full beard and he contemplated going back upstairs for it. His stomach convinced him that was a bad idea.

“There you are!” Lykaon's smile filled the empty place that had threatened to swallow him. Not caring about the others in the room, Alexios slid an arm around his waist and kissed him soundly.

“Good morning.” There was a general coughing and shuffling and Lykaon blushed. Alexios helped himself to cheese and bread and a cup of wine one-handed. “Gentlemen.”

With the air of someone who had been subject to the mercenary's lack of shame over the better part of a year, Herodotos said, “We've just been talking about places to see in Athens, Alexios. I understand you're planning to throw things at philosophers?”

Alexios looked bland. “It's better than trying to listen to them.”

Lykaon elbowed him in the side as Sokrates sputtered. Herodotos carefully maintained a straight face. “Yes, well, you might have more luck at the agora. Alkibiades and Nikias have been dominating the Pnyx lately, so no one else has much gotten a chance to speak to the assembly.”

The mercenary brightened. “Oh? Throwing rotten fruit at Alkibiades might be even better.” Lykaon gave up on propriety and leaned into his side, laughing. Alexios turned a genuine smile on him, arm tightening around his waist. “How's your aim, healer? Should I teach you to throw before we go?”

“I had wicked aim when I was a boy, but I don't think I've thrown anything since stones at the birds in Delphi.”

Barnabas grinned. “I've still got two drachmae says we have to get Alexios out of legal trouble before the Adrestia pulls out, so by all means, throw anything you want at the politicians. Since you lost me a drachma last night keeping him away from Alkibiades.”

Lykaon raised his eyebrows. “Really? Someone took that bet?”

Herodotos coughed and busied himself spreading cheese on another slice of bread.

Sokrates sighed. “That a young man so beautiful on the outside manages to irritate everyone whenever he opens his mouth comes near to disproving my assertion that inner beauty is the true virtue for which we should strive.”

Alexios shook his head. “I've heard you're a great appreciator of outer beauty as well, Sokrates. At any rate, where shall we start, Lykaon? The Akropolis? The Pnyx? The agora? One of the other temples?”

The healer glanced at him sideways. “I thought perhaps today might be dedicated to recovering from the night's excesses. Tomorrow will be soon enough. Then we could start with the Akropolis, and from that vantage point choose where to go next.”

Barnabas slapped Alexios on the shoulder. “He's a tactical one. Keep him. Lykaon, lad, make Alexios tell you about the time he crept onto the Akropolis under cover of darkness hunting Kleon.”

Alexios rolled his eyes. “He doesn't want to hear these stories, Barnabas.”

“No, I really do.”

“Did he tell you about the time he climbed the--”

“ _Barnabas_.”

“All right, all right.”

“Climbed the what?” Lykaon asked alertly.

“The Logismos. I was tampering with an ostracism vote for Perikles,” responded Alexios a little too promptly. At the looks of astonishment from everyone he said, “What? You all knew he was pragmatic.”

“Yes, but Anaxagoras was ostracized!” said Herodotos.

Alexios shrugged. “That was what Perikles wanted.”

Sokrates eyed the mercenary sharply. “Why did you never tell me you did it on Perikles's orders?”

“Go to the crows, it wasn't any of your business who hired me unless you were paying more than he was.”

The philosopher opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again. Barnabas laughed, slapping his knee. “Never thought I'd see the day Sokrates was stricken speechless!”

Alexios shrugged again and drained his cup. “Having been given my orders for the day, I think I'll see if I can bribe a servant to carry food upstairs and retire before Barnabas can give all of my secrets away. Will you come with me, Lykaon?”

The doctor laughed softly. “I think I will. I don't know how Athenians do these things night after night. Although the thought of staying down here and getting Barnabas to embarrass you _is_ tempting.”

Barnabas waved his hands in a shooing gesture. “Go, go! There will be plenty of time on the Adrestia for stories.”

Alexios paused on his way to the kitchen. “I am suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to travel on land.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ancient Greeks were very big on appearing self-controlled and all cerebral and whatnot. As such, public displays of affection were extremely uncouth. So, for that matter, were large penises (they were considered very "animal" -- decent human men had small penises). Someone like Alexios probably doesn't care, he's not terribly invested in his social standing and appearing dignified and sophisticated. I imagine that Lykaon puts up with it because he loves him.
> 
> The historical Alkibides and Nikias were, in fact, rivals with opposing ideas for how to govern Athens. However, Alkibiades was also known for, uh, not having the highest moral standards. This ended up getting him in trouble and he fled a death sentence for impiety, winding up first in Sparta and then in Persia. The fact that impiety is punishable by death is why Alexios interrupts Barnabas, who was about to bring up Alexios getting drunk and climbing the statue of Athena on the Akropolis on a dare. Greeks took offences to the gods VERY. SERIOUSLY.
> 
> The historical Sokrates was a notorious lover of young, attractive men. In fact relationships between older men and teenaged boys was...a normal thing in ancient Greece. Um. Yeah. Anyway. Alkibiades was probably one of his crushes although older than his normal tastes. At the time of Odyssey the game, Sokrates wasn't actually philosophizing in the real world, but was in the Athenian army as a hoplite. The pudgy, middle aged philosopher they show us is very much a lie. He was probably still irritating as fuck, though.
> 
> "Go to the crows" ("ball eis korakas" in Greek -- they're still using it) dates back to at least Aristotle, which puts it a little after the game if we go by when it was used in print, but whatever. The literal sense is a wish that the person not receive a proper burial, but instead have their bones scavenged by crows. The "feel" of it is much closer to "go fuck yourself".
> 
> I think in the end I'm going to "remaster" this - a little light editing, regroup things so the chapters make more sense, etc etc. If you're the kind of person who downloads fic for their kindle or other ereader, I'd encourage you to wait for that version honestly. I keep spotting damn typos.


	14. As Numb as I've Become

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft agley.

The next morning, however, brought a change in plans. Hippokrates received an urgent summons from a colleague and invited Lykaon along; Alexios assured him that he didn’t mind and accepted an invitation to go hunting from a few of the younger men who had attended the symposium. A day outside the city on horseback would clear his head, and with any luck he’d have dinner to show for it. He was feeling extremely self-satisfied if filthy with blood and mud when he made his way back to the house in the clear of evening with a haunch of goat slung over his shoulder.

The tension in the house prickled his skin as soon as he entered, nearly making the hair on his arms stand up. A servant relieved him of the meat as he arrowed toward the quiet voices in the library. There he found Barnabas, Sokrates, Aristophanes, and a bruised and battered Hippokrates, but no Lykaon. The men stared at him, frozen, as something terrible rose up inside him. “What’s going on,” he demanded, his voice low and hard-edged.

“It was a trap,” Hippokrates said. “I only just managed to get away. They were waiting for us.”

Howling emptiness yawned in Alexios’s chest, clawing at his throat. “Who,” he choked out.

“We don’t know yet,” said Sokrates, his voice strangely gentle. “We’ve had no word.”

A tap at the door then made everyone but Alexios jump. He only turned, eyes hard, and gestured to the servant holding a piece of papyrus. “Come.”

“This was left for you, sir,” the woman said, handing it to him, and bowed her way out of the room, anxious to be out of the air of coiled, waiting violence in the room.

The mercenary scanned the brief note then threw it on the table, striding rapidly out of the room and towards the stairs. It read only, “Akropolis, statue of Athena. Come alone.”

* * *

Armor first, hands fastening it all automatically until it was a second skin holding him together. Weapons next, each secured carefully where it came to his reach easily but wouldn’t get in his way when not wanted. Looking for a bit of extra padding for the wound on his ribs turned up the strip of light blue cloth Lykaon usually wore for an arm band. Silently, without screaming, his knees not giving way, he tucked it carefully inside his cuirass so it rode over his heart. He was surprised to feel a pulse there. His chest felt gaping, empty, ripped open and hollowed out.

He was going to find whoever had done this, and he was going to destroy everything they ever loved. While they watched. And then he was going to maim them, carefully, so carefully. He wouldn’t let them die. He would make them live empty and alone like this if they had harmed one hair on Lykaon’s head. If they had so much as frightened him.

Barnabas met him at the door. “I’ve summoned some of the crew, Eagle Bearer.”

“No. The letter said alone. I’m going alone.” And he was out the door and into the darkening streets, gliding from shadow to shadow towards the cliff of the Akropolis. The road up beckoned, but any watchers would have their eyes on the road. They were probably also keeping watch on the southern cliff face. He circled around to the deeply shadowed northern face and began to climb a steep outcropping leading toward the temple. The rhythm of hauling himself up and up and up, fighting gravity, provided a brief escape into mindless focus. Too soon he was on the plateau, slipping into the bushes and then behind a low wall, listening intently. He heard voices, low and back, debated killing them, decided to wait. There would be time for killing after he knew where Lykaon was.

A figure stood near the flame in front of the goddess, metal gleaming on its torso and limbs. Army, then. Bandits and thugs would have known to wear leather, or dull the armor. No helm. Alexios drifted closer, shadow to shadow, then straightened and stepped into the light and tapped the man on the shoulder. The general Demosthenes turned to him. “Ah, mercenary. It’s been quite some time.”

Alexios crossed his arms on his chest. “What do you want, _general_.”

The man smiled easily. “Boiotia. The Spartans can keep that shithole Megaris. But Boiotia was an embarrassment, mercenary, and I want it back.”

“Why are you telling me this? I’m retired.”

“I’d heard. That’s why I thought you might take a little bit of convincing.” The general reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a piece of cloth, cut from the border of a dark blue himation. A little blood spattered the corner. Alexios stared at it, feeling the air sucked from his lungs.

“I want to see him.”

“And I want Boiotia. When I have what I want, you’ll get what you want, mercenary. Not before.”

“How do I know he’s alive?”

Demosthenes turned away. “Have a little faith, mercenary. You’re going to have to. Now go, you have work to do.”

Alexios snarled impotent frustration. “Take him a message from me.”

The general turned back. “Very well. What shall I say?”

The mercenary’s fist lashed out, rocking Demosthene’s head back. “As if I trust you to carry my words.”

Demosthenes shook his head to clear it, but Alexios had melted away into darkness.

* * *

Lykaon paced the confines of the room once more. It was not uncomfortable, but it was nerve-wracking. A pallet with a straw mattress, a table, a chair. Practically Spartan in its austerity, he thought to himself. The cut on his cheekbone had long since stopped bleeding, although his face was tender and a little swollen on that side. Unable to focus on more serious worries, he found himself mourning the chunk of his himation his captors had cut from him. Confusingly, they seemed to be Athenian army. Their leader wasn’t familiar at all, so wasn’t one of the generals who had been at the symposium.

A door opened down the hall, briefly admitting the sounds of the street before it closed again. Voices in the front room of the house as men came in, and then footsteps coming closer were the only warning he had before the door was slammed open, bouncing off the wall. His captor stood fuming in the doorway, the arc of a cut just under his eyebrow and that eye swelling shut. Blood had run down his face from the cut, leaving his face a gory mess.

“I spoke to the mercenary,” the man said in a voice seething with anger.

Lykaon stared. “I, ah, see.”

“He asked me to bring you a message. And then he said he didn’t trust me to carry his words and did this.”

“That’s…well, yes, he is _very_ direct sometimes.”

“What does it mean? Will he do what I want?”

The doctor spread his hands. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I’ve only seen him in peace. To know what he’ll do when under duress, well. You’d do better to ask his ship captain than to ask me. But let me see to your face.”

The man blew out a harsh breath. “I have my own physicians. I don’t need your attentions.”

Lykaon shrugged. “It’s your eye.”

“We will wait for news of him. Then we will know what your fate is to be.” He charged back out the door, slamming it shut, and this time a bar was dropped in on the other side. Lykaon went back to pacing. Three steps, from side to side. One small window, high up, too small for a human being to fit through. All things considered it wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. He’d been in worse places. It’s just that no one had locked him in them.

* * *

Soldiers, in Alexios’s experience, never looked up unless you threw something at them. He followed Demosthenes and his men, staying to the rooftops whenever he could, and noted that they never thought anyone might follow them, either, apparently. Lazy, lazy, but he wasn’t going to complain. The cold emptiness in his chest had honed his focus to razor-fine perfection and he could feel Leonidas’s spear working on him, sharpening his vision and muffling his footsteps, wrapping him in shadows. It might demand a price later in exhaustion, but for now it was helping, and he would take it.

The soldiers stopped at a wealthy house he didn’t know, and went inside. Not as large as Perikles’s house, but large all the same. Inner courtyard, upper rooms on two corners. A low wall around a small garden. He slipped over the wall, finding untended shrubs and overgrown weeds growing thickly along it. His expression at the discovery was less a smile than bared teeth as he ghosted through the vegetation. One door ahead, one guard on the door, shield on his back and leaning on his spear. Alexios deliberately rustled the bushes, watching the man’s head swing around. Simple, cheap armor and not much of an impediment to his spear. He whistled, soft and low, and the man started toward him with an oath. As soon as he was in range, the mercenary lashed out, driving the spear into the soldier’s face. He went down without a sound beyond the crunching of bone and the squelch of damaged flesh, right into the concealing greenery.

Alexios ghosted through the open door and into the house, every sense on high alert. Down the hall to his left, one open door and two closed; ahead were two open doors and one closed at the far end on the right, with a single guard standing outside it. Above he could hear the sounds of men in an upstairs room. He felt impossibly calm and cold as his mother’s voice echoed in his ears saying, “Hesitation only hastens the grave.” His breathing steady, he moved for the man at the end of the hall, who was staring into space with the air of someone who doesn’t expect anything to happen. The door behind him was barred.

* * *

Lykaon had just stretched out on the pallet, looking up at the night sky through the high window, when he heard a high-pitched, enquiring noise and then his view was obscured by a very large bird. He frowned. The bird hopped through the window and flapped awkwardly to the floor, making the sound again.

“Ikaros?”

The eagle waddled over, ungainly on the ground, and seemed to look him over, then leaned forward and pecked him sharply in the arm. “Ow! What in the name of the gods?!” He scrambled to his feet as something banged against the door, flinching as the eagle launched itself onto his shoulder. Then came the scraping noise of the bar being raised, and the door opened. Alexios stood in it, a body at his feet behind him. The spear of Leonidas and the hand that held it were covered in blood and more spattered across his chest and even up onto his face. The hallway behind him didn’t bear thinking about. But it was when Lykaon raised his eyes to meet Alexios’s own and saw the cold grief and emptiness there that his heart broke and he rushed forward, ignoring the brief stab as Ikaros launched off his shoulder to go back to the window.

The mercenary met him, grabbing him up almost too tightly to breathe, burying his face in Lykaon’s neck. The moment was all too brief, though, both of them aware of where they were. “Are you hurt?” asked Alexios in a low, intense voice.

Lykaon shook his head. “I’m fine, Alexiskos. Really I am. The cheek is nothing. Let’s just go.”

He nodded and took Lykaon’s hand. “Where’s the front door? Is there a guard on it?”

“Down the hall here. There wasn’t when I came in.”

There was when they went out. The man died a split second after he saw them as Alexios whipped the spear around, viper-fast, and left the body where it fell. Lykaon flinched but followed his lover into the darkness of the streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it possible I can do an entire chapter that doesn't warrant a lengthy historical note explaining the context and/or clothing?! Ye gods and little fishes, it is! I might be improving.
> 
> Oh hey wait wanna talk about paper in the ancient world? They didn't have it.
> 
> Well, they didn't have paper as we know it, which is pretty much a soup of plant cellulose fibers made into flexible sheets. Vellum and parchment, made from specially prepared animal hides, were known but were EXTREMELY labor intensive to prepare. Labor intensive like I, who think nothing of shearing a sheep by hand, cleaning and preparing the wool by hand, spinning it by hand, and then weaving it by hand into cloth, won't even touch the process to make vellum or parchment. They were used for things that needed to be long-lasting and durable and expensive.
> 
> However comma the Egyptians had invented papyrus paper, made from the reed of the same name. The process to make it is kinda labor intensive but not really any worse than, say, pressing flowers or making cheese by hand. The Greeks imported papyrus from Egypt and used it for writing that could be cheap and temporary. Like, say, ransom notes and copies of popular books of poetry. Most of the copies of ancient Greek poetry we have come from papyri that were preserved in Egypt after the Greeks conquered the country (after the time period of this game, Origins is set during Greek Egypt) or were copied and/or quoted by the Romans. That's how we have the genuine line from Sappho that gets partly used in Odyssey. The entire fragment is: "You may forget, but let me tell you this: someone, in some future time, will think of us."
> 
> ...no you're sticking gratuitous historical notes on your fic. You.


	15. I wish I was the moon tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lykaon is unexpectedly opinionated and tactical.

Alexios would always remember that trip through the back alleys of Athens in the dark as a nightmare, Lykaon’s hand clutched in his own and always listening for the sound of feet behind them. His heart had restarted and beat painfully in his throat, his lungs worked again and the air seemed to burn. On his own, Alexios would have taken to the rooftops again but he knew Lykaon couldn’t follow there. On the ground he felt desperately vulnerable, too many blind corners and alleys opening up on his sides. He was hyperconscious of Lykaon behind him, footsteps and breathing so loud that Alexios felt an entire army of soldiers or common street criminals could be catching up and he’d never know. It was a long, long way back to the house of Perikles.

When they got there, though, the garden was bright with torches, most of the carried by crew of the Adrestia who patrolled with whatever makeshift weaponry was at hand. Given the two Athenian army soldiers still stationed at the gate, Lykaon and Alexios both were relieved to see the friendly, if disreputable, faces of the crew. Alexios detailed one of his lieutenants to go around the house, shutting and doors and shuttering windows, barring them to intrusion. Then he led Lykaon into the house, still not letting go of his hand, and shut the front door behind them. Finally, something of the tautness in his body began to bleed away, his breath coming a little harder as his iron control slipped a notch. There was something awful in his eyes when he turned to Lykaon, who stepped forward and kissed him.

It seemed to the doctor that it took forever for Alexios to respond, but finally the mercenary’s arms came up and encircled him gently, almost tentatively, and then Alexios broke from the kiss to bury his face against Lykaon’s neck. “Shh, I’m here, I’m safe. It’s all right, my dear, it truly is.” He stroked the mercenary’s tangled hair, continuing to murmur to him.

Eventually Alexios swallowed and stepped back, eyes searching Lykaon’s face as he asked, “You’re truly all right?”

“I truly am. The worst injury was to my poor himation. And it was one of my favorites.”

Reaching out to gently cradle his face, Alexios turned it to examine his cheek. “I’ll kill them for this.”

“There’s no need, Alexiskos, truly. Where’s everyone else?”

“Probably the library.”

“I’ll go and meet them there. Why don’t you go and get cleaned up a little, then join us?”

Alexios nodded, then stepped back reluctantly and let Lykaon go, watching him walk the brief distance to the library before cutting across the courtyard to the kitchen and begging the assistance of one of the servant women, who poured water over his hands and forearms while he scrubbed the blood off. His hands started shaking now that it was all over, and wouldn’t stop. He watched them almost clinically, rubbing at his knuckles until they were clean, then dried them on a towel the woman offered him, avoiding her sympathetic eyes. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he headed for the meeting in the library.

The small room was loud, everyone talking over each other. They quieted when he came in, watching him, but Lykaon turned and held out his hands and Alexios went to him, taking them. “Better,” the doctor said, looking him over. “We’ll get the blood off your face later, I suppose.”

“Did you find out who was behind all this?” Aristophanes demanded, interrupting whatever reply Alexios was about to make.

The mercenary turned to the table, resting an arm around Lykaon’s shoulders, and said, voice soft and laden with violence, “Demosthenes.”

Sokrates looked up. “The general?”

Alexios swung an impassive gaze on him. “No, Demosthenes the fishmonger, who had command of enough Athenian soldiers to commandeer a house and take a captive.”

The philosopher had the good sense to look abashed, and Lykaon leaned into Alexios’s side, heedless of his armor. Hippokrates spun a reed pen in his fingers. “Well, then, we must consider our next move.”

“The three of you will stay here with Lykaon. I’m going to go kill every single one of the metrokoites that laid a hand on him, and then I’m going to kill Demosthenes slowly. He’s going to tell me who told him I was retired, and about Lykaon. At dawn, the Adrestia sails for Keos. Lykaon will be on board. I will be hunting down whoever gave Demosthenes his information and killing that person, too. Maybe also their family, to make a point. When I’m done, I’ll take passage for Keos myself.”

Three faces paled as Lykaon turned his head to look at Alexios sharply. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. I’m not going anywhere without you. I still haven’t seen the Akropolis, and you are retired from bloodshed. Other than all of that, it’s a delightful plan.”

The mercenary clenched his jaw. “Can we discuss this later?”

“We can discuss this more privately, but later is too late.”

“Fine. We’ll be upstairs.”

Lykaon turned to the others. “Will one of you send up a servant with hot water and towels, please?”

Alexios followed the doctor’s arrow-straight back up the stairs and across the balcony to their rooms, where he carefully barred both doors before turning to find Lykaon sitting on the bed, legs stretched out and leaning back against pillows.

“Gentle Asklepios, I am exhausted. Alexiskos, come. Take off your armor and weapons and rest.”

“I can’t, I—”

“You need to rest, and I need you near me. I have had a long and frightening day and there is one thing I want right now, and that is to use you for a pillow and know that all of this is _over_.”

Alexios nodded and began removing his armor, pausing to answer the door and take the hot water and towels from the servant who knocked at the door. He dragged the table over beside the bed and set the basin and towels on it, then finally finished by removing his cuirass, setting it aside with care. Stripping out of his chitoniskos, he finally lowered himself to the bed next to Lykaon, who reached across him for a towel, dipping it in the hot water and wringing it out.

“Clean up first, I think, so that we can fall asleep without worrying about getting blood on the bed.” He began gently swabbing the mercenary’s face. Alexios closed his eyes and gradually gave himself over to the ministrations, letting the last of the day bleed out of him and his mind drift. He was interrupted by a hiss as Lykaon moved his arm aside. “You’ve reopened this quite badly, my dear. Didn’t you notice?”

He blinked his eyes open. “I was thinking of other things at the time.”

Lykaon sighed. “I’ll talk to Hippokrates in the morning about sewing it closed. Are you injured anywhere else?”

Alexios shook his head. “No. I’m all right, my heart. Stop fussing and lie down and rest.”

Nodding, the doctor set the towel aside and unwound himself from his maimed himation and then his chiton before stretching along the mercenary’s uninjured side, his head resting on Alexios’s chest. The heartbeat beneath his ear was steady and strong, and after a moment Alexios brought a hand up to stroke his hair gently, the other arm wrapped snugly around him.

“You told me you were done with leaving me, Alexiskos, do you remember?”

“I remember. But this is—”

“This changes nothing. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to remember what it feels like to send you out, not knowing if you’ll live or die. I don’t want either one of us to be alone. So I’m going to hold you to it.”

“So I just let him do this to you? To me?”

“You already killed one of his men.”

“Two.”

Lykaon sighed. “You already killed two of his men. He knows now that he has no way to control you, and if we leave Athens he won’t know where you are, either. He will live his life in fear of every step behind him and noise in the undergrowth.”

Alexios was quiet for a moment, considering, his fingers combing through the curls of Lykaon’s hair. “All right. But we leave as soon as the Adrestia can be ready.”

“Where will we go?”

“Anywhere but here. Epidaurus? Would you like to go there? Maybe to Delos? Just let’s go away from Athens.”

Idly rubbing his fingertips over Alexios’s chest, Lykaon murmured, “I’d like to see them both, why not go first to whichever is closest?”

“It sounds like less work than my plan.”

Lykaon laughed and looked up, and Alexios craned his neck down and kissed him, cradling the back of his head. “I could kill them all for laying a hand on you. And then track them to Hades and kill them again.”

The doctor shifted up a little and nipped Alexios’s bottom lip. “That sounds excessive, best beloved.”

“I don’t think it does.”

* * *

Alexios woke suddenly at the first touch of light in the morning, eyes open and alert. Lykaon slept against his side and the streets outside were beginning to stir, but nothing moved nearby. He gradually relaxed again, then eased out of bed to tie his chitoniskos around him and fasten it at the shoulders. Moving in barefoot stealth, he quietly began gathering up their things and packing the bag he’d purchased in Piraeus. When Lykaon began to stir he moved back to the bed, timing it to be right there when the other man’s eyes flew open.

“Shhh, Lykaiskos, I’m here. You’re safe.”

The doctor blew out a breath. “I’m a little more rattled than I thought I was, I guess.”

“It happens. You’ll be fine. I was packing while I waited for you to wake up. We still need to roust Barnabas and the crew out, if he ignored my order to have the Adrestia ready at dawn.”

Lykaon yawned. “He’d better have. It was a bad order.”

Alexios leaned down to kiss him. “If you say so, my heart. But it will slow us down if he did.”

“We’re not in a rush, Alexios, we can take our time and leave in a leisurely fashion. We don’t want to look like we’re hurrying.”

The mercenary narrowed his eyes. “When did you get so tactical?”

“When it kept you from running off trying to get killed, and from trying to get me out of bed this early. If you had any sense at all, you’d join me until a more reasonable hour.”

Alexios smiled. “You drive a hard bargain, healer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been longer, and also posted earlier, except for an incident involving one of my dogs bringing me a possum that was only pretending to be deceased. The dog was extremely pleased, believing he had yelled at the possum until it expired from sheer fright. The possum was extremely dedicated to pretending to be dead.
> 
> Being a farmer is great sometimes.


	16. Every time you go away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're going to need a diversion.

Downstairs later they found Barnabas and the Adrestia’s lieutenants, faces grave.

“Bad news, Commander,” the captain said. “The way between the Long Walls is under watch. Soldiers on the pier let the crew board, but say they have orders to prevent the Adrestia’s departure.”

Alexios swore, his eyes going hard. “Demosthenes thinks to prevent us leaving, does he? Well. Roxana. Odessa.” He addressed two of the lieutenants. The women, one with dark African skin and one Greek, stepped forward smartly. “The southern wall of Athens is about two thirds of a stadion south of here. There are stairs up onto it if you go directly toward it. Turn right when you reach the wall, there will be a rock outcropping that reaches nearly to the top. You two will take Lykaon by that route out of the city and south to the fishing village, you know the one?” They both nodded. Lykaon looked stricken, grabbing for the mercenary’s arm. Alexios regarded the women a moment. “The Adrestia will meet you there. You were both capable when you joined me. You’ve trained with me since, and I’ve trusted you with my own life and now with Lykaon’s. Ḕ tā̀n ḕ epì tâs. Do not fail me.”

“Alexios, _no_ ,” Lykaon choked out. “Don’t do this. Come with me, we’ll—”

The mercenary gathered him close. “Lykaon. Lykaon, listen to me. We have to get the Adrestia free, or we’re hamstrung. The crew has no chance against trained and armored soldiers, not without my help. And when I move against them, it will ensure they’re too busy to look for you. I need you safe.”

“I can’t do this, I can’t be parted not knowing if I’ll see you again, not one more time. Please.”

Alexios brought his hands up to cradle Lykaon’s face and kissed him gently. “Believe that you will see me soon, my heart. You won’t lose me, and we’ll be together and free of this place and on our way anywhere else.”

Lykaon closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Alexios’s. “I die a little every time we part like this.”

The mercenary brushed his thumb gently over Lykaon’s unbruised cheekbone. “I know. I wouldn’t ask it of you if there were another way. Odessa and Roxana will keep you safe for me, so that I have a reason to be careful.”

The doctor swallowed and nodded, stepping back between the two women forming his escort. Roxana put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Do you want us to go now, Commander?”

Alexios nodded. “Go. And remember. With your shield or on it. If you fail to keep him safe, there will be nowhere in the world I cannot find you.”

The women nodded soberly, turning to go with Lykaon between them. He cast one last look over his shoulder, seeing a servant arrive with Alexios’s armor and weapons as the mercenary conferred with Barnabas and the two remaining lieutenants. Then it was out the door and into the garden. He started toward the gate and Odessa, the small Greek woman he’d already met, shook her head. “No. Soldiers guard the gate, and we don’t know who they answer to. We go over the wall.”

Lykaon stared at her but followed to the wall around the garden, somehow managing to scramble atop it. The women came up behind him, much more gracefully. “How are we getting down?”

Roxana flashed him a grin. “We jump!” She matched words to actions, landing neatly. The doctor followed, landing rather less neatly, and shook himself off. The three of them walked south, the women actually managing to look like they were only out for a stroll. Lykaon felt as if he were giving them away with every step, his nerves nearly making his teeth chatter. But no one stopped them on the way to the stairs, which were right where Alexios said they would be. No one was watching on the wall to question them as they moved along it to the outcropping. Getting over the city wall was less of a problem, in the end, than the wall around Perikles’s garden.

The land on the other side was rocky, dusty, and mostly bare. Odessa cocked her head for a moment, listening, then shrugged. “Take the road, or go the short way?” she asked Roxana.

“Take the short way. Nikephoros will be safe to go to, and we’re better off with him than on the road or trying to find cover,” Roxana replied, looking thoughtful.

Odessa raised both eyebrows. “Nikephoros?”

“The blacksmith in the village. I’ve been going to him to work on my equipment, the smiths in Athens are too expensive.”

Lykaon licked his lips. “How, ah, difficult is the short way?”

Roxana grinned. “Easy enough even a city doctor can do it. Come on, we’ll get you there and settled and before you know it the Adrestia will come sailing up and Barnabas will tell us some outrageous tale of how the Commander single-handedly defeated the entire Athenian army. The Commander will have a scratch across his knuckles and claim that in Sparta he would be ritually killed for letting someone get through his guard so shamefully.”

They started across the road and into the scrub, Lykaon saying fervently, “May the gods be listening, and may it happen just as you’ve said.”

Odessa laughed. “Don’t tease the man, Roxana, can’t you see he’s having a hard time of it? Try not to worry, doctor. I know you’re not used to this, or to spending time with the Commander out in the world. He attracts trouble, that man.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Roxana said, settling her shield a little more comfortably on her back. “Half the time he does go looking for it. At least this time it found us, it’s always a little galling to have to flee trouble the Commander started. Bear a little west here.”

They curved right around a rock outcropping. “What kind of trouble did he usually start?” asked Lykaon.

Odessa shrugged. “What trouble didn’t he start? Burgling outposts and occasionally getting spotted on his way out, taking contracts to kill the odd politician, bar brawls…”

Roxana smiled wickedly. “The time he got caught in that woman’s bed.”

Odessa slapped her arm. “Roxana! I don’t think the doctor needed to know about that one!”

Lykaon blinked. “Well, it’s not like we had an understanding of any kind. He just came to me when he could, and I was careful never to ask where he’d been and what he’d been doing between times.”

The women exchanged a look. “You probably should, sometime,” said Odessa. “Secrets are no good, they only fester. Tell him yours, and make him tell you his. That man carries more secrets than a dog does fleas.”

They could hear the sounds of the village now, just over a small rise, and smell the fires from the houses. “Thank you, Odessa. I’ll think about it.”

Roxana led them down into the village street and along it a little way, following the rhythm of a hammer on metal. “Chaire, Nikephoros!”

“Roxana!” cried the smith, catching her up and planting a kiss on her lips.

Odessa raised both eyebrows and looked over at Lykaon. “You know, that’s not what I usually mean when I say I have a smith work on my equipment.”

The doctor forgot himself enough to laugh. “They do seem to know each other very well, don’t they?”

Roxana eyed them askance. “Nikephoros, my friends and I need a place to wait for the Adrestia for a little while.”

“Of course, my little honeyed fig. A friend of yours is a friend of mine, after all. There’s bread and olives on the table, help yourselves. I’ll be in when I’ve finished repairing this pot.”

The smith’s house was one small room, a little crowded with the three of them around the table. The sea breeze came in the window, redolent of fish from the village’s industry. Lykaon pulled his chair over to sit looking out it at the ocean, tranquil today. A hand landed on his shoulder.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Roxana said, her voice kind.

The doctor smiled weakly. “I can’t seem to help it. It was bad enough before, when I never knew when he was supposed to return. It’s worse now. What if something happens to him?”

Odessa came over and handed him a cup of wine. “Nothing’s going to happen to Alexios. Ares loves him and Tyche smiles on him.”

Lykaon took a drink and sputtered, discovering that the wine was barely watered at all. Roxana patted his shoulder. “Drink that. It’ll take your mind off things while we wait.”

He took another drink, swallowing it down with a grimace. “Not exactly what I’d prescribe, but it will do the trick.”

Odessa punched his arm lightly. “That’s the spirit. Nothing to do now but wait, anyhow. Roxana can keep us occupied telling us _all about_ exactly what’s going on with her personal blacksmith, here.”

Roxana laughed, popping an olive into her mouth. “A lady never tells, Odessa.”

“And there are no ladies on the Adrestia. Tell the story, lieutenant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case context didn't make it clear, "Ḕ tā̀n ḕ epì tâs" is that famous Spartan phrase, "With your shield or on it." Spartan women may or may not have actually used this phrase when sending their sons and husbands off to battle, it's only attested in one source (Plutarch) who admits he wasn't writing documentary history but rather was writing to illustrate the virtues of the Spartans. The high point of Spartan military glory had occurred some 300 years before, anyway. He paints a very stark picture of Spartan women, showing them rejoicing to find their sons had died nobly in battle and disowning sons who lived through battle through ignoble means.
> 
> I do not have enough space in end notes to explain all the diacritical marks on ancient Greek, and anyway I'd screw it up because I am not in fact a specialist in it.


	17. Got a handful of lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never come between a man and his ship.

Alexios resolutely turned away as Lykaon left with his lieutenants, feeling far more reluctance than he showed. But what he’d told Lykaon was the truth: they needed the Adrestia, and while it was easy to get one man out of the city via an unexpected route, freeing an entire ship was a more difficult proposition and needed him more. He couldn’t leave the Adrestia and her crew here in Demosthenes’s grip.

Accepting his equipment from a servant, he began arming himself as he talked to Barnabas. “All right. I want the three of you to proceed openly toward the Adrestia, and then when you get there, find the man in charge of the soldiers on the pier and start an argument with him, Barnabas. I know you know how far you can push it without starting a fight.”

The captain nodded. “And where will you be, Commander?”

The grin that stretched Alexios’s lips looked predatory. “Nearby. When it starts, you all get out of the way.” He settled his sword comfortably on his hip and his bow and quiver on his back, flipped the spear of Leonidas in his hand and slid it into its sheath. “Let’s go.”

They walked out the front door and then the front gate under the watchful eyes of the soldiers stationed there, Alexios at his usual almost-swagger. When they were out of sight of the guards at Perikles’s house, he faded into the shadows and from there went up to the roof tops, following Barnabas and his men from there. It took only a moment to spot the soldier following them. It took a few moments more to send Ikaros to signal Barnabas down an alley and then drop down behind the soldier, driving the spear of Leonidas up under his helmet. He signaled the all-clear and rolled the body behind a pile of refuse, climbing back up to the roofs of the city. There were no other followers.

The marketplace between the Long Walls leading to Piraeus was trickier, but the mercenary still managed to stay out of sight, moving from shadow to shadow behind the booths, easing nervous donkeys with a stroke and wary dogs with a tossed chunk of cheese. It was a long 38 stadia until they reached the bustling port and concealment became easier. He moved ahead of his men and slipped into the water of the port, wincing at the thought of what it was doing to his bow and bowstring, then eased through the water to come up and hang from the pier just beneath one of the soldiers standing there. As he heard Barnabas start up not far away, he came up behind the soldier and slit his throat with one easy movement. The next one in line started to turn, but too late: Alexios was on him and driving the Spear through his face. Retrieving it at the back of the man’s head, he flung it at the third in line, sinking it into his throat, and rolled to snatch it out of the corpse before it could fall into the water.

It was the fourth man who raised the alarm, but by then only he and his captain were left. Alexios drew his sword, turning it into a backhand slash that drove the soldier back, and rolled away from the captain, feeling the wound in his side tear open under the strain. He swore and ignored it, coming back to his feet, and batted away first a stab from the soldier’s sword, and then the man’s shield out of position, bringing the Spear into play to slash at his opponent’s eyes. It opened a bleeding gash on his face and sent him reeling backward out of the fight, but cost Alexios a ringing blow on his armor from the captain. Spinning, he put the last three inches of his sword into the captain’s throat, pulling free as the body dropped.

The wounded man’s screaming was attracting attention. A kick to the temple either knocked him out or killed him, Alexios didn’t much care which. He leapt to the Adrestia, where a few crew waited tensely. “More coming, Commander! The oarsmen are in position, we’re only waiting on your order!” Barnabas called from the stern. Without hesitation, Alexios cut through the first of two lines holding the ship to the pier. One of the boarding party standing near the other did the same there. The piper began playing and the toicharchoi cried orders to their sides of the ship, moving Adrestia away quickly. One soldier, perhaps feeling optimistic or enraged, tried to make the leap to her deck but fell short and landed in the water. Alexios moved a hand, staying the archer about to put an arrow in him, and the Adrestia finished her turn and headed for the mouth of the harbor.

Reaching the stern, the mercenary took his place beside Barnabas, accepting a cloth from him to dry his bow and squeeze the water from its string. “If Tyche is smiling on us,” the captain said, “they won’t have expected us to actually make it, and there won’t be a watch at the harbor mouth.”

Alexios shrugged. “And if there is a watch, we’ll kill them too. But I don’t think Demosthenes will spend his men too cheaply, and I don’t think he can risk losing entire ships in pursuit of us.”

Barnabas laughed and slapped him on the back. “There’s the Eagle Bearer I know! Where are we headed after we pick up the doctor and the lieutenants?”

“Delos, maybe. Staying off the mainland will probably be a good idea for a while.” Alexios pulled off his armor, wincing, and set it in the chest where he kept his belongings on board, making a mental note to clean and oil it as soon as he had a chance.

The captain grinned slyly. “Take him to Kythera. You lads can have a nice time communing with Aphrodite.”

“That’s a better idea than many you’ve had. Seriphos was beautiful, and there were some empty houses there. We might be able to rent one. I still need to go to Kos and…have a talk with Markos, for that matter.”

“Do you really want to take your gentle doctor for that talk, Alexios?”

The mercenary returned to his place at the front of the stern platform and lifted his face to the sea wind. “Not especially. But on the other hand, it will keep me from beating Markos to death with my bare hands if he gives me the wrong answers about Phoibe, so there’s that.”

Barnabas shook his head. “If you really want to be stopped, I guess it will work out. The fishing village is just ahead.”

Alexios nodded. “They’ll be on the eastern side, with the blacksmith.”

“How do you know that?”

“Roxana’s sleeping with him.”

“How do you know _that_?”

“Look, there’s no time for conversation.” The mercenary headed down the stairs to talk to one of the deck crew, who nodded and dove into the cove. Barnabas joined him at the railing. “I sent one of the men in to get them and borrow a boat.”

The captain looked down to where Alexios’s hands had a white-knuckled grip on the railing. “I’m sure they’re fine, Eagle Bearer. Roxana can give you a good contest, and Odessa sees further than Ikaros and could shoot the fleas off a dog.”

“I know, I know. I can’t help but worry though when there’s nothing else to think about.”

“Think about the rites of Aphrodite, then, or how much Lykaon is going to fuss when he sees the blood running down your leg.”

Alexios looked down and swore. “Tore my side open on the pier. Maybe a little worse than I thought. At least it’s stopped, that’s all mostly dry.”

“Too late to do anything about it, anyway, they’re leaving the dock.”

The two men watched the four little figures get into a fishing boat, accompanied by the boat’s owner, and push off from the pier. Alexios stared at it, trying to will it to move faster, his hands gripping the rail so tightly he was surprised it didn’t creak under his hands. It seemed to take both too long and no time at all until they were close enough that he could meet Lykaon’s eyes, and then he couldn’t seem to catch his breath until the fishing boat was alongside the Adrestia and he could reach down to take Lykaon’s hands and help him aboard. There was a long moment while they searched each other’s faces and then they were in each other’s arms, both of them holding on tightly, and Alexios wasn’t sure how he could ever manage to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The toicharchoi were part of the command structure of a trireme. One coordinated rowers on the port side of the ship, and the other on the starboard. Between them, they managed the amazing maneuvers triremes could execute, including "going in a straight line" which is no mean feat when you're propelling a boat by means of rowing. The piper served to help the rowers keep their rhythm, if you look up diagrams of how the decks (and therefore layers of oars) were stacked on a trireme, having a man out of rhythm would be _disastrous_ and foul up an entire side of a ship.
> 
> Wait, back up. A trireme had three stacked decks of benches for rowers. Each oar had one rower. A bireme had two decks of rowers. A monoreme, poor sad little ship, only had one.
> 
> The piper played to keep all the rowers in rhythm, which helped the ship go in a straight line. The port and starboard side banks of rowers were under separate command, which gave the ship immense maneuverability -- set the port side rowing backward and the starboard side rowing fast forward and you'll get a very tight turn. Looser turns could be managed by getting the appropriate side to speed up or slow down. I have no idea how that worked with the piper.
> 
> As I mentioned in a previous note, a leisurely cruising speed was 6 knots - 6 nautical miles per hour. You wouldn't use the rowers on the open sea when wind was available, though, unless you were in battle.
> 
> I'd apologize for the short chapter but since this is number two for today, well, I'm pretty pleased that it's only about 50 words short of 1500.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tentative opening to the first of many very necessary conversations.

They stood, clinging to each other, for what seemed like a long time, but eventually the realities of being on a ship at sea that was turning and heading for open waters asserted themselves and they were forced to step back a little. Alexios took Lykaon’s face in his hands and kissed him, murmuring, “I told you that you’d see me again.”

Lykaon laughed weakly against his lips, breaking the kiss to ask, “A time like this and all you can say is ‘I told you so’?”

They turned toward the stern, arms around each other, Alexios careful to keep the doctor on the side without all the blood. “Yes. How did Roxana and Odessa do?”

“They were wonderful, they took good care of me. Nikephoros fed us, and they told me all about both minotaurs you fought.”

“Gods preserve me. I might have sent people who knew fewer stories, but I trust those two.”

“What about you? Are you all right?”

“Nothing serious, Lykaiskon. I could use a swim to get the blood off when we’re far enough out, and I’ll have some bruises.”

Lykaon frowned, looking over at him. “You look like you’re favoring your other shoulder. What happened?”

Alexios settled on the deck, leaning back against the chest at the very back of the stern platform. “A scuffle on the pier, there were two of them and I was trying to be fast rather than careful. It’s just a bruise, my heart, that’s why I wear armor.”

The doctor’s frown deepened. “Bruises don’t bleed down your side onto your leg, Alexios.”

He smiled hopefully. “It’s someone else’s blood?”

“Unfasten the shoulders of your chitoniskos, let me see.”

With a sigh, Alexios followed instructions. Lykaon made a pained noise before he even knelt on the deck to get a better look. “I’m sewing this up, Alexios, no arguments. And we’re going somewhere _peaceful_ and you’re going to stay out of trouble. Is there an uninhabited island somewhere Barnabas can drop us off? Surely you can’t manage to get into a fight on an uninhabited island.”

The mercenary shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to get into fights in Athens, remember. Trouble found me. It does that. Anyway, I already told Barnabas to take us to Seriphos so we can catch our breath and figure out where else we want to go. It’s pretty there, you’ll like it.”

“Is anyone going to try to kill you?”

Alexios looked thoughtful. “There’s only one person with any real motive…”

“ _Alexios_.”

“My life has been a little complicated, all right? We haven’t all had the luxury of staying in one place being of public service.”

Lykaon sighed. “I’m going to get one of the crew to get me some sea water. I’d be happy with vinegar, but salt water will do for now. So will Seriphos.” He went down to the deck and spoke to one of the boarding party, who dipped up a bucket of sea water and brought it up to sit it next to the mercenary. Rummaging through the chest, the doctor found a small bag which held a small needle and several long filaments of flax. “I’ll clean you up first, but then I’m definitely sewing this shut. Otherwise I’m afraid you’re never going to let it heal.”

Alexios reached out to touch his face with the backs of his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

Surprised, the doctor looked up from cleaning the wound and met his eyes. “I’m not angry with you, Alexiskos. I just wish you were taking this more seriously.”

The mercenary grimaced. “If I took people trying to kill me seriously I’d never get to laugh.”

“I’m beginning to understand that, yes. Lie down, with your arm just here, and try not to move too much. This isn’t going to be enjoyable.”

“I’ve probably had worse.”

“Not from me.”

Alexios reached up to touch his face again. “When you asked me to come with you to the fishing village.”

Lykaon leaned down and kissed him. “All right. I meant physically. Now hold still.”

Staring into the sky, the mercenary concentrated on not moving as the needle poked through his skin, pulling thread behind it, and then the stitches were pulled tight and knotted, over and over.

* * *

The brief journey to Seriphos was uneventful, and evening saw the Adrestia docked in the harbor and the two men taking temporary possession of a room in the gatehouse-shaped inn. The crew was boisterous, glad to be on land and out of trouble, but Lykaon noted that Alexios’s good cheer seemed forced, the mercenary quiet when he thought no one was looking. They’d started back to their room when he said, “Do you want to go for a walk? There’s a place I know.”

Lykaon nodded. “Of course. It’s a nice night.”

Alexios took him up past the small temple and along a path for a little ways before cutting to the right. “Little jump down here, off these rocks.” Then they were on a cliff overlooking a nearly circular cove that sparkled in the moonlight. Going to the edge, Alexios sat and patted the rock beside him.

The doctor joined him, asking quietly, “Are you all right, my dear?”

“What if this is it, Lykaon?”

“What if what is?”

“What if I can’t retire? What if no one will let me, and I can’t ever stop fighting and killing, and you’re always in danger because of me. What if it _never stops_ and I can never stop leaving places and settle down somewhere and make a life?” Alexios turned dark eyes on Lykaon. “Will you want to stay with me, then? Or will you get tired of it, and ask me to drop you off in Kirrha so you can go back to safety?”

Lykaon took his hand. “Oh, Alexiskos. I don’t know what to tell you about anything but this: I am not going to leave you. Not for scheming Athenian generals or angry Spartan mothers.”

Alexios looked away. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Reaching out, Lykaon gently turned his face back. “Yes, well, you could tell me. And then when I was still here, you’d feel better. Asklepios the savior, Alexios, my grandmother convinced the ephors of Sparta to commit an atrocity against your family, and you still didn’t strike her down where she stood. Give me at least that much credit, since I doubt you’ve done anything half so terrible.”

Taking a shaky breath, the mercenary reached out to cradle Lykaon’s cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do, darling man, or the Fates wouldn’t have brought us together.”

Alexios leaned forward and kissed him, and Lykaon let himself melt into it, both of them taking their time. They were somewhat breathless when it ended. “Shall we go back?”

Lykaon looked wistfully down at the cove. “I wish the cove weren’t so far away. It would be less public down there.”

The mercenary grinned. “Oh, well that’s easily remedied. Watch, then follow.”

“Wait. What are you doing?”

Alexios let go of his hand and stood, then eased out along a tree that had grown projecting over the cliff edge. “Getting down the fast way.”

“You’re going to break your neck, Alexios, get back here.”

“I’m not going to break my neck. I do this a lot.”

“Alexios!”

But the mercenary had shoved off, leaping from the tree in an arc. Lykaon leaned over, watching in horror, as he arrowed into the water below. He surfaced a moment later, laughing. “See? My neck is fine,” he called up.

Lykaon swallowed. “I am _not_ copying that!”

“Fine, fine, the slow way is to your right.” Alexios began swimming to his left and Lykaon started walking down, the two of them meeting at a small white sand beach. The mercenary was grinning and self-satisfied.

Lykaon stared at him. “I could kill you. You could have died!”

He kissed the doctor swiftly, his lips cool and tasting of salt. “No. I’ve been here before, my heart, and knew it was safe. I am only occasionally a complete idiot, and this wasn’t that.”

“All right. But now you’re soggy.”

“You could have been soggy with me. It’s not too late, actually.”

“Yes but then I’d have to get in the ocean. Which is cold and has sharks in it.”

Alexios laughed, then moved swiftly in a maneuver Lykaon was sure would normally be followed up with stabbing. This time it ended with them both tumbled on the ground, damp and sandy, Alexios lying atop him and grinning. He gave up trying to be serious and wound his arms around Alexios’s shoulders, laughing. “Using Spartan tricks on me is _cheating_ , Alexios.”

The other man ducked his head to kiss Lykaon’s neck. He obligingly tilted his head back to make room. “That wasn’t a Spartan trick. You can tell because it worked. They’re bad at tricks.”

“Mmmm. Where did you learn that one, then?”

“Street fights on Kephallonia.” Alexios rolled onto his back, taking Lykaon with him and reversing their positions. “Are you going to remove at least one layer of unnecessary cloth yourself, or should I do it?”

“I should make you take me back to the inn. Where, I should note, the bed is not made of sand. There will be _chafing_ if we stay here.”

“May all the gods defend us. Back to the inn it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appear to have no historical notes for you tonight! My god, the world might be ending.
> 
> These poor boys though. It is very difficult to go from a long-distance relationship where you see each other periodically for delightful visits to a living-togther type relationship even when people AREN'T trying to kill one or both of you.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's easier to talk in the dark.
> 
> Content Note on this chapter for description of what I find to be the frankly abusive dynamic between Markos and Kid!Alexios. Please exercise caution if you're likely to find it disturbing. I mean, there wasn't any physical abuse, but who finds a half-drowned kid on a beach and refuses to feed him unless he agrees to do him a favor? WHO DOES THAT, MARKOS? Anyway, I took that to its logical conclusion. Alexios is disclosing in a safe and supportive environment, at least.

Sometime in the night, Lykaon felt the bed move as Alexios get up and struggled out of sleep. “Beloved?”

“It’s all right, my heart. I can’t sleep, thought I might take a walk.” Rustling in the darkness as the mercenary moved around, finding his clothes.

“Or you could come back to bed, and tell me what’s wrong.”

Alexios sighed, unseen. “It’s nothing, I’m fine. Just having trouble sleeping.”

“When you’re fine, you sleep like the dead. And snore. Come back to bed, Alexiskos, and stop trying to deal with everything by yourself.”

The mercenary grumbled a little low in his chest but did as he was told, sliding back under the light blankets. Lykaon reached and found his hands in the darkness, clasping them, and received a kiss on the backs of his fingers. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

Moving closer, Alexios paused a long moment and Lykaon thought perhaps he wouldn’t speak. When he did, his voice was low and rough. “I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to have to keep fighting constantly. I don’t want to have to be afraid for you, and always running. But I don’t know how to stop it, Lykaon. I’ve made too much of a name for myself. Everywhere I go, someone recognizes the Eagle Bearer and wants something from me. I don’t want to keep fulfilling the demands of strangers, but if I don’t then I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“Come here,” Lykaon said, freeing his hands and sliding one arm under the mercenary’s head, enfolding him in his arms. “We’ll find a way, my dear, I promise you. You don’t have to find it by yourself, certainly. And we’ll find a place to settle down and, I don’t know, raise goats or sheep or cows. Plant a vineyard. Something peaceful that doesn’t involve swords and stabbing.”

Alexios chuckled a little at that. “Did I tell you about Markos and his vineyards?”

“You didn’t, no. Markos was the man who raised you?”

“If you want to call it that. He found me half-drowned on the beach on Kephallonia and taught me that everything has a price. If I wanted food, I had to do him a favor. Stealing things for him, mostly. When I got older and bigger and he figured out I could fight, he started using me for muscle as well.”

Lykaon kissed his forehead. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. That sounds like a terrible way to grow up.”

“It could have been worse.” Alexios settled his head more comfortably on Lykaon’s shoulder, shrugging. “He never tried to sell me, either as a prostitute or a slave. He didn’t beat me. He wasn’t really cruel, or terrible. He just made it clear that if I wanted food, I had to work for him. If I wanted shelter, I had to work for him. Everything depended on me doing what he wanted, on what I could do for him. He found me half-drowned and hungry on the beach near Sami and offered me bread if I would pretend to be his son so he could swindle money out of someone.”

Working out the knot in the thong holding Alexios’s hair back with one hand, Lykaon ran his fingers through the braids and tangled locks gently. “For all you say I’m not a killer, I think I could at least learn to punch people. People who deserve it, anyway.”

Alexios made a small, contented noise at the caresses, his body slowly relaxing. “It’s not hard to punch people. I can teach you, if you really want. Anyway, by the time I left Markos had borrowed money from Kephallonia’s only crime boss and bought himself a vineyard, even though he doesn’t know anything about growing grapes or making wine. And then he needed me to take care of the criminal, so he wouldn’t be killed because he couldn’t pay back the debt. It was the last thing I did for him before leaving.”

Lykaon found a knot of muscle in Alexios’s back under an old scar and dug his fingers into it firmly. “You might be a better man than I am. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have left him to be murdered.”

“He owed me money.”

“Oh well that’s different then.”

Alexios sighed. “I didn’t have another way to look at it, then. And I owed him. He was incompetent and manipulative, but he kept me alive, Lykaon. You and Phoibe are the only people who haven’t wanted me around just for what I could do for you since Nikolaos threw me off Taygetos. And Phoibe’s dead.”

“Oh, beloved. It must have been very lonely for you.”

Wrapping his arm snugly around the doctor’s ribs, Alexios nodded against his shoulder. “It was, sometimes. Sometimes I didn’t notice, it was just what I was used to. And sometimes it wasn’t so bad. I had a little house, out by the ruins. Phoibe slept there sometimes, after her parents died.”

Lykaon rubbed idly at the three parallel scars on his beloved’s bicep in the darkness. “You don’t have to be used to it anymore, you know.”

“I know. I try to know, and I try to believe it. It’s hard, Lykaon.”

“Have you sent word to Markos since you left?”

“No. I saw him, on Kos. He’d managed to con his way into another vineyard, gotten in trouble with the local crime family. I took care of that, too. Then Phoibe died in Athens and I’m afraid to go tell him. I’m afraid I’ll beat him to death with my bare hands. I left her in his care, Lykaon.” Alexios’s voice broke. “I failed her twice. I left her with Markos, even though I knew what he was like. I knew that he looks after himself first of all. Then when the Cult soldiers caught her, I wasn’t fast enough to save her and she died. I might as well have killed her.”

Wrapping both arms around the mercenary as tightly as he could, Lykaon said softly and firmly, “Alexiskos, no. People make their own choices, beloved. What Markos did, what the Cult soldiers did, those were their choices and never your fault. Phoibe knows that, she’s in the Elysion now. No one blames you but yourself.”

“That’s enough, though, isn’t it,” answered Alexios raggedly.

“More than enough to make you miserable. Much, much more than you deserve. It truly wasn’t your fault, beloved. You’re one man, you were fighting forces that had wormed their way into the heart of every institution in the Greek world.”

Alexios twitched one shoulder in a minimal shrug.

“I’ll keep telling you so until you believe it, then. The world has been very unkind to you, my dear.”

The mercenary turned his head just far enough to kiss Lykaon’s chest. “No. It gave me you.”

“I hardly make up for everything else.”

“You’re blushing, aren’t you.”

Lykaon laughed softly. “You know I am. You do it on purpose, you beast.”

Settling again against his side, Alexios kissed his chest again, then yawned. “I like to see you with color in your cheeks. It makes you even more handsome.”

“You’ll make me vain. Go to sleep, darling man. I’ll still be here in the morning, and the one after that, and the one after that, and so on and so forth.”

“What if I’m not sleepy?”

“You sound like a child, Alexiskos, trying to stay awake. Sleep, love. Rest, and let your side have half a chance at healing a little. The world will still be here in the morning, and we’ll find breakfast and decide if we’re staying here a while or if you’d rather go farther from Athens.”

“I’d like to stay _somewhere_ for longer than a few days.”

“I know,” Lykaon said gently. “We just need to pick a place, love, and then the Adrestia will take us there over the waves. We’ll find a nice little house to stay in, with windows that don’t catch the morning sun so you sleep later than dawn. We’ll get fat and lazy, basking in the sunshine when it’s cool and lying in the shade under an olive tree when it’s too hot. You won’t have to fight anyone, and I’ll make you teganites for breakfast every morning for being so well-behaved.”

Lykaon waited a moment, listening to Alexios breathe. There was no answer, the mercenary was asleep on his chest. He smiled in the darkness, and let himself drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized there's a couple of historical notes I should have put in earlier, but screw it, I can cover it when I remaster the fic. This update is short (by about 70 words) from my daily word goal (argh) but hey! It's early! I can still make my word count!
> 
> Instead of reading a lengthy historical note, [LOOK AT THIS AMAZING ILLUSTRATION OF THE MOMENT ON THE RIDGE BETWEEN DELPHI AND THERMOPYLAE](http://nossik.tumblr.com/post/180298586805/managed-to-draw-a-scene-from-this-lovely-fic)!!!!! Go look! OMG. It's so perfect. EVEN THE CLOTHING IS AMAZING.
> 
> You can in fact find me on tumblr at [NeolithicSheep](http://neolithicsheep.tumblr.com/). I am old and confused by anything post-LiveJournal so mostly my tumblr is there to repost things from my instagram. But if you want to look at pictures of my sheep and cows etc etc, well, there you go!
> 
> Lastly but definitely not least, special love to my trans readers today on the Trans Day of Remembrance.


	20. Last night I dreamt I'd forgotten my name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family is the worst.
> 
> Many thanks to [Quills At Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quills_at_dawn/pseuds/quills_at_dawn) for assistance translating a footnote that was in French! And for lengthy brainstorming discussions of Spartan inheritance in the classical age.

The first light of dawn saw the sun coming through the small, high windows of their room and Alexios awake as usual. Lykaon groaned. “Has it ever occurred to you to just roll over, pull a pillow over your eyes, and go back to sleep?”

Alexios stretched, carefully. “No? The sun is up, a sea breeze is blowing, and I was promised breakfast.”

“I did promise you we’d find breakfast, didn’t I.”

“You did. I was thinking about where we might go, too.”

Lykaon raised the corner of the pillow over his head and eyed the mercenary. “How long have you been awake?”

“It started to get light a little while ago,” Alexios leaned down to kiss him.

“I never fail to be amazed by your ability to be awake and coherent at these hours. Where are we going?”

Flopping half on top of him and getting an “oof” that made him smile, Alexios declared, “Lesbos.”

The doctor gave up hope of more sleep and wound his arms around his lover’s shoulders. “Why there?”

“I’ve never actually started an international incident that led to war on Lesbos. And it’s a long way from Athens.”

“Fair enough. Do you promise not to start any while we’re there?”

Alexios nuzzled his neck. “You were saying something about teganites when I fell asleep last night.”

“I was. But you have to not start any wars.”

“I can probably manage that. Shall we go find breakfast?”

Lykaon sighed. “Of course, my beloved. Let’s go find breakfast.”

They found a fisherman cooking fish for a substantial number of the crew down by the water, and joined the group. Claiming freshly fried fish wrapped in pita bread, they found themselves sitting on the side of the Adrestia near Odessa and Roxana, who both looked over and grinned. “Did you enjoy your evening, Commander?” asked Odessa with a wink. Alexios grinned and winked back, taking an enormous bite of his food, while beside him Lykaon blushed.

Barnabas dropped down to sit on Lykaon’s other side, his hands full of his own food. “What’s the plan today, Eagle Bearer?”

“First, you stop calling me that in public. Second, we sail for Delos. You still want to see Delos, Lykaiskon?”

“If you think it’s advisable.”

“It’ll be fine. So we sail for Delos. From there, we go to Andros—”

Lykaon stared at him. “Alexios, _no_ , you are not fighting whatever Herodotos thinks is there. Your side isn’t even nearly healed and--” 

Alexios leaned in and kissed him. “No, my heart. There’s something I want to show you on Andros that doesn’t involve me drawing my sword at all. I promise.”

“You never showed me anything on Andros, Commander.”

“The two of us have a very different relationship to the one I have with Lykaon, Barnabas. Very, very different. For which I give thanks to the gods.”

Barnabas laughed and slapped Alexios on the back. “That makes two of us! You’d wear me into an early grave, lad. Delos it is then. Poseidon has sent us a beautiful day for sailing.”

Lykaon and Alexios stayed seated, their legs dangling off the side of the Adrestia, while behind them the rowing crew went to their oars and the deck crew cast off the lines. Leaning back on his hands, Alexios looked over and said softly, “You’re still here.”

The doctor glanced over at him. “Of course I am, silly man. I told you that I would be. You’re allowed to be less than perfectly strong, Alexiskos.”

He looked back out over the water. “I’ll try to believe you, my heart. It’s a…very new idea.”

Laying back on the deck and tucking his hands behind his head, Lykaon smiled. “I’m very convincing, you know. And Barnabas was right, we’ve been sent a beautiful day. We’re free and clear and no one is trying to kill you. Relax and enjoy it, my dear. How far to Delos?”

Alexios flopped down carelessly next to him. “Should take until sunset, depending on the wind and the currents and whether or not we need the rowers.”

They lay, looking up at the clouds and Lykaon nearly drowsing in the warm sunshine with the ship rocking beneath him, side by side and generally at peace with the world. They could hear the piper below-decks, the chief rower singing a line and the rest repeating it back to him in chorus.

“Lykaiskos?”

“Hmmm?”

“You don’t have to tell me but…what happened to your parents?”

Lykaon looked over. “I don’t mind, my love, it’s an old grief and dull now. My father died in the Battle of Salamis, and my mother went to her grave giving birth to Agave not long afterward. Praxithea raised us after that, or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that the women she hired did, since she spent most of her time in the temple being the Pythia. Normally a Pythia serves until her death but…something happened. I was very young, and so was Agave. Praxithea retired instead, and we moved to that little house outside the Chora.”

“And you decided to become a doctor?”

“I wanted to help. I thought maybe if I were a doctor, I could make sure fewer mothers died. I hope I have. Sometimes I think nothing I do makes a difference, really.”

Alexios rolled onto his stomach to get closer, reaching out to brush his fingers against the softness of Lykaon’s beard. “Of course you’ve made a difference. Sometimes it’s the gods that strike us down, though, and even the best physician can’t hope to prevail against that.”

The doctor smiled wryly up at the sky. “That doesn’t mean we won’t try, though.”

“And you call me stubborn.”

“I wouldn’t recognize it half so well if I didn’t know it like an old friend, my love.”

“Truth,” Alexios laughed, and leaned down to kiss him, only to be interrupted by a cry from Barnabas.

“Alexios! Spartan fleet on the horizon, headed this way and gaining!”

“Skor aeinon.” The mercenary rolled to his feet, heading to the stern platform to look where the captain was pointing. Lykaon scrambled up, less gracefully, and followed. “What is that, Barnabas? Six pentaconters? And a heavy trireme behind them? Apollo Karneios.”

Barnabas squinted. “We can try to outrun them, but the pentaconters are likely to catch us and keep us busy long enough for the trireme to get here, if it’s us they’re interested in. Better to pretend we don’t see them, maybe, and if we do see them, we don’t care they’re there.”

“I’m regretting having this sail up, now,” Alexios said distractedly, staring at the ships as the six pentaconters hoisted their sails and put out their oars. “It’s much too recognizable. If we get to pull in, change it out for Keos or one of the merchant guilds, Barnabas.”

“ _If_ we get to pull in?” choked out Lykaon.

Alexios put an arm around his shoulders. “I left Sparta on bad terms. Those boats are heading for us at speed. I don’t know what their intentions are, but this may get bad. I need to put armor on.” He kissed Lykaon, fierce and swift as Ikaros, before heading for the chest and pulling out armor and weapons, methodically transforming himself. The fleet was much closer when he’d finished and returned to the rail to watch it with Barnabas and the doctor. “If we’re lucky, it’s just Lysander wanting to say hello.”

The scarred captain shrugged. “If we’re not lucky, we’re all going to get slaughtered.”

Lykaon leaned against Alexios’s arm, feeling unsettled as the smaller boats pulled up and surrounded them, and then one side of the formation parted and the larger trireme pulled alongside. A soldier came to the rail and called over, “Our Commander requests to come aboard with his escort.”

Barnabas and Alexios exchanged a look, then a shrug. Alexios yelled back, “Permission granted for your Commander and his escort.” He turned and murmured into Lykaon’s ear, “Whatever happens, remember that I love you. More than my own life. Stay close.” And proceeded down the stairs to the end of the plank the sailors laid between the two ships after they were tied together. Lykaon followed behind.

The black-haired man who crossed over with five Spartan hoplites left the mercenary staring. “ _Stentor_?”

“Chaire, Alexios. You’ve been a difficult man to track down.” The Spartan looked him over. “I see you’re still…doing whatever it is you do.”

“Selling my sword, fighting for money instead of glory, all of that, yes.”

“How…very Athenian of you.”

Alexios raised an eyebrow. “Well, I could always go back to Sparta and claim my inheritance if that would make you happier.”

Stentor looked uncomfortable. “Unaccountably, given that you renounced it, Myrrine wants you to do just that.”

“You know, as much as I hate to disappoint my mama, in this case I’m going to.”

“What can possibly be more important to you, by the gods? You’re defying your family’s wishes and your duty to Sparta, _mercenary_.”

The mercenary turned slightly. “Lykaon, have you met my baby brother? This is Stentor Nikolaou, currently heir to House Agiad of Sparta. Stentor, this is Lykaon Arkadiou of Delphi in Phokis, my beloved.”

Lykaon blushed furiously to hear himself introduced and briefly hated himself for it, and then something else registered. “Did you say _House Agiad_? As in one of the royal houses of Sparta? Excuse me, where are my manners. I’m pleased to meet you, Stentor.”

Stentor glared daggers at Alexios, and then Lykaon. Lykaon responded with a bland smile, Alexios crossed his arms on his chest. “We’d heard rumors via the army that you’d run off to a male lover. That’s when Myrrine sent me after you. She said to remind you that Pausanias died without an heir.”

“If only I’d thought of that before I gutted him like a flopping fish. Sparta will have to decide the succession without me. Go home, Stentor, and tell Myrrine and Nikolaos and anyone else who asks that I’m not interested.”

“You don’t understand,” gritted out the general between clenched teeth. “She wants you to come home so that she can put you on the Agiad throne. She wants to make you a king of Sparta.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Skor aeinon" (Σκῶρ ἀείνων) means "ever-flowing shit", and many thanks to the charming Aristophanes for preserving that bit of profanity for us down through the ages.
> 
> If you ask the Spartans (well ok read their records) they'd tell you that the succession to the kingships was a matter of unbroken father to son inheritance from Herakles until they stopped having kings. If you read ANY other source, you will find out that the Spartans were lying to you and inheritance was a lot more complicated than that. As always, when power was involved, there were machinations and scheming and sometimes people died without an heir and therefore a brother or other relative inherited. Sometimes inheritance was even influenced by the female line, as in the case of Gorgo who was the wife, mother, and grandmother to a bunch of kings of Sparta.
> 
> I'll save most of this note for later, just know for now that it is not implausible that in fact Alexios is a reasonable candidate in the eyes of some in Sparta for the Agiad throne (the other candidate would be Stentor, ha!) given the reality that the game built where Pausanias was king and died without a direct heir.


	21. I'm a free man with no place free to go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you don't have a reference for "normal"?

Alexios shrugged. “Yes, well, mama wanted Nikolaos to keep me and Kassandra at the top of Taygetos, too. This is going to work out the same for her. I’m not interested, Stentor. Go home and be the king of Sparta, you’ll be good at it. You _love_ Sparta. I don’t.”

Stentor threw his hands in the air. “Fine. I’ll just return to Sparta and tell everyone there I _failed_ and they’ll hand me the throne out of sheer gratitude.”

“How you get it isn’t my problem. Try some tact for once, maybe. But get off my ship.”

Whirling, the general stomped back across the plank bridge to his own ship, followed almost sheepishly by his escort. Sailors from the Adrestia and the Spartan trireme cast the two ships apart. Alexios stood watching the distance grow, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Well. That’s done.”

Lykaon crossed his arms on his chest. “Were you ever going to _tell_ me you were a member of a royal house of Sparta? That you are, in fact, the heir apparent to one of the thrones of Sparta? Did it ever occur to you to mention that?”

The mercenary looked at him in confusion. “When we met, I wasn’t the heir to anything. They’d thrown me off a mountain, I survived, I grew up with Markos on Kephallonia. By the time I was the heir to mama’s branch of House Agiad again, it didn’t seem important.”

“ _Not important_?” The doctor’s eyebrows shot up, his voice rising along with them. “You just let me think you were the son of some Spartan hoplite, just another mercenary out for revenge on people who targeted his family for reasons beyond his understanding. That’s awfully close to a lie!”

Alexios gestured sharply, hands out to the sides and then falling again, his own voice rising. “If I said it, it made it real, all right? I gutted my cousin Pausanias on the road like the shit-faced dog he was, and I knew that left me or Stentor! I never wanted it!”

“Evidently your _family_ does!”

“They can want Zeus himself to appear and order me to sit on that throne and I still won’t do it! I’d be miserable! I don’t _want_ it and I didn’t tell you because I just want to be Alexios, the mercenary from Kephallonia who showed up and made you happy!”

Lykaon glanced around at the crew watching them avidly and lowered his voice. “What really makes me angry is that you didn’t trust me to let you be that man anyway.”

“You’re right.” Alexios was still a little loud as he crossed his arms tightly, looking away. “I was afraid. You know why. I told you last night.” He turned and walked toward the prow of the ship, leaving Lykaon to shake his head and shove a hand through his hair before going after him.

“Alexios. Will you stop?”

The mercenary stopped and said quietly, “We’ll be at Delos in a few hours. You can get off there. Ships pull in from all over, there will be one going wherever you want to go.”

Lykaon thought his legs would go out from under him. “You’re sending me away?”

After a beat, Alexios turned back, his face a blank mask but his eyes dark with hurt and confusion. “No. I could never do that. I just assumed you weren’t staying.”

Moving slowly as if approaching a wounded animal, Lykaon moved close and clasped Alexios’s upper arms gently. “Alexiskos, oh my dear, no. No, no, no. I’m angry, and I’m hurt, but _I love you_. I’m not going to stop just because we shouted at each other a little bit.”

Alexios’s shoulders slumped and he tightened his arms across his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you”

Lykaon stepped to his side, putting a hand on his back gently. “Come on. Let’s go sit behind Barnabas. It was a little bit of a shock to find out I’ve been sleeping with a Spartan prince, you know.”

They sat on the bench behind Barnabas, watching in silence as the crew went back to their places, chattering and occasionally glancing at the two of them. Alexios closed his eyes and leaned back against the railing behind him. “I can’t believe they sent _Stentor_.”

Scooting closer, Lykaon leaned back next to him and tilted sideways just enough to lean on his shoulder. “If I had to guess, it would be that the resources he commands were judged useful. And he did find you. They probably should have sent someone else to do the talking, though.”

The mercenary snorted, stretching his arms out along the rail. “He’s a Spartan general. They don’t have to be politicians, not like Athens.”

Lykaon shifted over again into the shelter of Alexios’s side, ignoring the edges of armor digging into him. “I figured that out. Although to be honest, Demosthenes didn’t seem especially tactful to me, either.”

“He didn’t want anything from you. He was much smoother when I met him the first few times.”

They sat in silence again, this time with Alexios’s arm around Lykaon’s shoulders and Lykaon resting his head on Alexios’s shoulder.

“Alexiskos, what do you want to show me on Andros?”

Alexios’s bark of laughter was bitter. “There’s a place there I want to take you. So I could explain things. Like who my parents are, and why the Cult of Kosmos was after my family. And then Stentor shows up.”

“Is it still relevant?”

“Oh yes. Yes, it is. You’ve gotten entirely the wrong idea from Stentor. At least about most things. Not about Stentor having a Spartan stick up his ass and the manners to match it.”

Lykaon caught Alexios’s hand before he could move his arm, pulling it more snugly around his shoulders. “Don’t move, I’ve just gotten reasonably comfortable on your armor. Why don’t we go straight to Andros, then? Delos will wait. I want to understand, Alexiskos. What you’ve been keeping from me, and why.”

Alexios sighed. “All right. But either I move, or I shout at Barnabas to change course.”

“Hmmm. If I let you move, will you take the armor off?”

“If you’re asking me to, my heart.”

“I am.” Lykaon let go and sat up. “Go instruct your captain, I’ll be here.”

* * *

“Everything all right, lad?” Barnabas asked him as he came up at the railing of the stern platform.

Alexios nodded. “I think so. At least until we get to Andros. Change of plans, Barnabas, we’re going to skip Delos and go straight there.”

The older man clasped his shoulder. “Barely even takes a course adjustment. We’ll have you there by morning, Alexios.”

“Thanks, Barnabas. When we get there, pull in at the usual dock.” Alexios came back to the bench where Lykaon waited and started unfastening pieces of armor, pulling them off and storing them neatly in the chest on top of the rest of his belongings. Down to his chitoniskos once more, he dropped onto the bench next to the doctor and laid his arm gingerly across the other man’s shoulders.

“Alexiskos, I’m not going to bite. I told you, just because I’m angry and hurt doesn’t mean I don’t still love you. It doesn’t mean you’re not still the breath in my lungs and the blood in my veins.”

Alexios kissed him, very gently, one hand coming up to cradle his face. “I’m no good with words. I just don’t want to lose you.”

Leaning his forehead on the other man’s, Lykaon smiled gently. “You won’t, best beloved. One argument isn’t the end of everything. I’m sorry I didn’t think before yelling. It should have occurred to me after last night that you don’t really have any experience dealing with normal anything, do you.”

“I used to think I did. Then the Cult came to Kephallonia and my entire life was upended for the second time.”

The doctor took Alexios’s face gently between his hands. “Alexiskos, _nothing_ in your life has been normal at least since Mount Taygetos. Understand that, please.”

The mercenary closed his eyes. “I was never even sent to the agoge in Sparta. So it wasn’t normal before Mount Taygetos, either.”

Lykaon kissed his eyelids softly. “You see? We’ll find somewhere to have a nice normal life. You’ll be bored and hate it for the first year, and then you’ll look up some morning, waking up sometime _after_ the sun has risen, and wonder what it was about people constantly trying to kill you that was so attractive.”

Alexios laughed, curling his fingers in Lykaon’s beard. “Will I? And where will you be?”

“Right next to you, of course, asleep until a decent hour, at which point I will wake up and make you teganites for not having started any wars, and we will put fresh cheese on them from our own goats, and honey from our bees.”

“And what about fig trees?”

“We’ll have those too, and I will make you endless cups of mint tea to settle your stomach after you’ve eaten yourself sick on ripe figs.”

“It’s a beautiful dream, Lykaiskon.”

“We’ll figure out how to get there, I promise you. Between the two of us, we can.”

The mercenary settled back on the bench, stretching his legs out and pulling Lykaon close. “I’ll try to believe you. And I swear, when we get to Andros, I’ll answer whatever questions you have. But part of it is much easier to show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thanksgiving here in the US, so I thought since it's just after midnight I'd go ahead and post this rather than risk making people wait all day. I don't know how much of a chance to write I'll get, so Friday's update may be late, but here's something to read if you're visiting your family and bored (and if you're not USian/not celebrating Thanksgiving, something to read extremely early for no reason!)
> 
> No, it really wouldn't have been a problem that Stentor was adopted. Spartan society was patrilineal, but also as I've mentioned before they were VERY into eugenics and men who were unable to impregnate their wives occasionally asked other, fitter men to do it for them. The important thing wasn't really the bloodline, the important thing was the name. Since Nikolaos adopted him and Nikolaos is married to Myrrine, Stentor is part of the Agiad dynasty as far as Spartan society concerned.
> 
> Also, given that thing where sometimes a man was asked to impregnate someone else's wife, can you _imagine_ demand for Alexios if he'd stayed in Sparta? Part of a royal dynasty and famous all over the Greek world for his skill as a warrior? The man can't go back, he'd get worn out in a week unless he started turning people down.
> 
> Ahem. I got carried away there.
> 
> Anyway. Myrrine is the daughter of Leonidas, right? Right. The game starts to diverge pretty heavily from actual history in here somewhere. So Myrrine is the daughter of Leonidas I, who died at Thermopylae. Leonidas and Gorgo had probably one son, Pleistarchus. Leonidas dies, Pleistarchus get the throne, _but Myrrine gets the Spear_. That's got to grate on her nerves. Pleistarchus has a son, Pleistoanax. Myrrine has Alexios. Pleistoanax has a son, Pausanias.
> 
> Then Pleistoanax gets exiled for taking a bribe to lift the siege of Athens in 445BCE. Pausanias is installed as a child ruler, when Myrrine is an adult and has an adult husband and a 7 or 8 year old son -- she could have reasonably expected that _Nikolaos_ would be crowned the Agiad king (he'd married into the dynasty!) and here's a perfectly good heir, untainted by any bribery scandal or anything.
> 
> Two years later, the Cult has gotten the kings of Sparta convinced to throw Myrrine's youngest child off Mount Taygetos, and her eldest rapidly follows. The ephors were a counsel of prominent citizens that, along with the council of elders (gerousion IIRC) had more power in the city of Sparta than the kings did. Normally either the ephors and the elders could have stopped a decision like that, but the kings of Sparta were the city's link to the gods and to the Oracle at Delphi. It is just possible that neutralizing Myrrine's designs on the throne was the real purpose as far as the kings of Sparta were concerned. It becomes more likely when you know that there were two boys exempt from the requirement to attend training at the agoge -- the heirs to the thrones. And Myrrine had kept Alexios out of the agoge.
> 
> More on the agoge point later, I swear. For now, good night and good luck and probably go read the goat drabble if you were excessively traumatized by the beginning to this.


	22. Be strong, saith my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Much Is Explained.

The dock at Andros, Lykaon was surprised to find, was nothing more than a few block of marble leading a little way out into the sea. He eyed it dubiously, but the Adrestia’s crew was solicitous and got him ashore without requiring Alexios’s usual careless leap from heaving ship to solid stone. The mercenary followed shortly behind him, having picked up a sturdy spear with a broad, flat head.

“Is this some way of getting around you promising me this didn’t need you to draw your sword?”

Alexios shook his head with a smile. “No. There’s pigs that sometimes think they own the path to where we’re going. Easier to kill a pig with a good boar spear, to put some distance between you and keep it from coming down the weapon and gutting you while it dies.”

“Gentle Asklepios.”

“He probably doesn’t live here. I think this place is dedicated to older gods. Come on.” He led Lykaon away from the beach, along a sandy path up a hill that suddenly dropped them into a ravine. The end to their left was closed by a triangle of black stone. “Here we are.”

“A cliff?”

“No. Just…look.” Alexios leaned the boar spear against the stone wall and pulled the spear of Leonidas from his back. The doctor blinked to see it glowing bright and golden. “You see? When I left you the first time, I went to meet Herodotos at Thermopylae. He told me of this place, and I brought the Spear here. It started doing this, and then it showed me a time when I was little, when my mother gave it to me.”

Lykaon stared at the Spear, reaching one hand out towards the tip. “It’s remarkable. I’ve never seen such a thing.” His fingertips brushed the sharp tip, expecting to find it cold. It was warm.

* * *

He was in his own warm and familiar house, humming to himself as he sliced lamb he’d cooked earlier that day, waiting for bread to finish baking in the little clay oven. He’d lit two lamps, a profligate waste of oil, but the rain poured down outside and the warmth and light and smell of food were a pleasing, snug contrast with the cold and wet of the storm outside.

Something thudded against the door. Lykaon jerked his head up, frowning. Either a branch had come off a tree, or he had a patient, and no one would come out in this weather unless it were urgent. Wiping his hands on a rag, he hurried over and opened the door, letting in a gust of storm and a heavy body that he caught reflexively as the person nearly fell, staggering under the weight and sudden recognition.

“[Gentle Asklepios! What’s happened, Alexios? Never mind, you’re safe now, I’ve got you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16596884/chapters/38896190).” He got the mercenary into a chair by the little fire, pulling his soaked chlamys from his shoulders and worrying at the fastenings on his armor. Alexios seemed to come awake at that and put his arms around Lykaon’s waist, burying his head against the other man’s stomach and clinging there as a drowning man might cling to a piece of flotsam. Lykaon stroked his wet hair gently. “Shhhh, you’re safe, my dear. It’s all right. We just need to get you out of these wet things so you can warm up.”

Somehow he managed to find the buckles for Alexios’s cuirass and unfasten them with one hand. The mercenary might grumble about letting his armor fall later, but beneath it his chitoniskos was soaked and he was shivering. Lykaon carefully unwound half his himation and wrapped it around the both of them, content then to offer comfort without understanding why. There would be time to talk when the chill was out of Alexios’s bones, when he was warm and dry and fed and had gotten some rest.

* * *

He jerked his hand away from the Spear, staring at his tingling fingertips, then staggered as a wave of disorientation hit him. Alexios caught him easily. “Steady, Lykaiskon. It does that to people when it talks.”

“It did that when you came here the first time?”

“Something like that, yes. And then I turned and touched it to the door.” Just as Lykaon was about to ask why he was calling the triangle of black stone a door, Alexios touched the blade of the spear to it. It split in half and swung open with a prodigious grinding noise. Inside, a few golden glows lit the darkness. The mercenary sheathed the spear on his back again. “It’s perfectly safe,” he said, picking up the boar spear. “Out here, there’s pigs. Come inside?”

Lykaon nodded, and together they stepped into the dark. Alexios led him through it to the start of a glowing path on the floor. To either side, stele projected glowing glyphs into the air, and far ahead of them was a low, lit platform. “And this is what you saw?”

“Yes. It hasn’t changed, in the times I’ve come here since.” He reached out and took Lykaon’s hand. “The platform is the only place to go.” They walked down side by side, the doctor craning his neck to look around, trusting Alexios to keep him on a safe and level path.

“What is this place?”

“I don’t know. Herodotos thinks it’s a place of a people who came before, perhaps the ones called Mycenean. I’ve found a few others, here and there, but none that do what this one does.”

“What do they all do? What does this one do?”

Alexios shrugged. “This one strengthened the Spear of Leonidas while I had pieces of the Cult’s pyramid artifact to give it. Four each imprisoned different creatures; the Minotaur, the Sphynx, the Medusa, the Cyclops Brontes the Thunderer. Most of them do nothing, house nothing.” He stopped on the platform and laid down his boar spear, turning to Lykaon. “There’s much I have to tell you, before I get ahead of myself. But I thought in this place…it might be easier for you to believe. Just remember as I tell you that I’m better with killing than stories.”

Nodding, Lykaon lowered himself to sit on the dusty stone of the platform. “Shall we sit, then?”

The mercenary joined him. “I told you last night of growing up with Markos after Nikolaos threw me off of Mount Taygetos. It was almost a year ago now when a man named Elpenor came to Kephallonia and hired me to kill the Wolf of Sparta, who I did not know was Nikolaos. When I found him, Nikolaos told me to find my mother, and that she would know who my real father is.” He looked down. “This was the first I ever knew that I was not the son of Nikolaos. It was just after this that I came to Phokis, to meet Elpenor and to visit the Oracle at Delphi.”

The doctor reached out to touch his face. “I had no idea you’d been so recently uprooted when I met you. You seemed very worldly, to me.”

“You were a bright ray of the sun in a clouded and confusing time.” Alexios captured his hand and kissed the backs of his fingers. “It was in Delphi that I also discovered the Cult, and that Kassandra lived. With one thing and another, I went and found my mother, Myrrine, and she sent me to find my real father. It was Pythagoras, Lykaiskon.”

“But he’d have been over a century!”

“I know. He revealed to me that my bloodline carries power beyond that of the kings of Sparta. And that he and Myrrine had, for lack of a better way to say it, deliberately bred with one another to produce me and Kassandra, so that the bloodline would not only continue, but be concentrated in us. He had a purpose for me, for which he needed someone young and strong from this blood.”

Lykaon squeezed his hand gently. “Oh, my dear. So you searched and found him and he didn’t want a son, but a weapon?”

“You understand. But I did what he asked, while doing what Myrrine asked, which was to hunt down the Cult and kill them all while simultaneously saving Kassandra from them. And when I’d done what he asked, his reward to me was to gift me with the thing which had kept him unnaturally alive, so that I too might never die.”

“He…you’re saying…he cursed you with immortality?”

The mercenary nodded wearily. “That is what I’m saying. I don’t know what the limits are. I don’t know if I can be killed. I know that if I’m not, I will go on living, unless I pass it on. Never aging, never changing, never resting. Only fighting the battles Pythagoras charged me with.”

The cavernous room was unnaturally hushed as Lykaon struggled for a few moments. “I don’t know what to say, Alexios. This all seems very…unbelievable. Like something from Homer, not something from our time.”

The smile that crossed Alexios’s face was twisted and a little bitter. “I know. Believe me, I know. And by the time I knew I trusted you enough to tell you, where could I even begin? How could I explain any of it? It’s bad enough knowing that you’ll get old without me, and go on to Elysion without me, and I may never join you there. How could I try to explain, knowing you might take me for a madman and leave?”

“You might have had a little faith in me,” Lykaon said gently.

“This has been the first time we’ve had more than a few days. I wanted those other times to be happy. It was selfish of me, I know, but sometimes you were all the happiness and shelter I had. Then it just never seemed to be the right time to bring you here. Stentor showing up worked well in that regard, at least. It forced my hand.”

“I understand that. I’ll need to think all this over.”

Alexios nodded, eyes on the ground. “I know. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, give you as much time as you need. You can send for me if you’re ever ready.”

“You are the most heart-breaking and infuriating man sometimes. What did I tell you earlier?”

“This is diff--.”

“Admittedly, this is different than you simply being the heir to a throne of Sparta. But still, what did I tell you earlier?”

“That just because you’re hurt and angry doesn’t mean you’re going to leave.”

“So I did. And where I’d like to go is Lesbos. It’s a long way from Athens, and I hear you’ve never started a war there. We’ll rent a little house, and I’ll take some time to think while I make the teganites in the morning. Stop trying to make me leave you just because that’s what you’re used to. And stop trying to carry everything alone, Alexiskos. We’d be so much better off if you’d just let me help you carry your burdens.”

Alexios made a choked noise and Lykaon leaned forward to gather him into his arms. “Come here. Let me help you, my dear. We’ll figure it all out, from the Spartan throne to immortality. Just stop trying to make my choices for me, you make bad ones.” He stroked the mercenary’s tangled hair gently. “Believe that I’m not going to up and leave you without warning. You aren’t going to be alone again while I’m here, Alexiskos.”

“I’ll try. I was less frightened fighting Medusa. I don’t want you to get old without me. I don’t want you to decide you can’t stand looking at me never aging while you do. I don’t want to be the undying king of Sparta. I never wanted any of this, Lykaon, please believe me.”

“Shhhh, love, I know. I do believe you. But what do you want?”

A weak laugh. “A little house where I can sleep late, and waking up next to you every morning, and teganites for breakfast as long as I don’t start any wars.”

Lykaon hugged him fiercely. “Then we’ll figure out how to do that, together. Between the two of us nothing is impossible, best beloved. And we’ll get old together and someday we’ll see each other in Elysion. We won’t let everyone else plan a future for you that you don’t want.”

“I’ll try to remember to let you help.”

“Stubborn man. Don’t try to remember, actually let me help. One of us has to be the polite, tactful one, after all. You’ve said yourself that you can’t solve every problem with violence.”

“I’ve tried. It doesn’t work well. I beat the Sphynx by solving riddles, I didn’t even have to fight her.”

“See? And now you’ve got a specialist in not using violence on your side. Although if you’re willing to teach me to punch people, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Anything for you.”

“Smart, darling man. Shall we make our way back to the Adrestia, and go start a future in Lesbos?”

Alexios nodded, sitting up and scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of one hand before picking up the boar spear and getting to his feet. He extended a hand to Lykaon to help him up, adding a little extra momentum to bring their bodies flush and kiss the doctor gently. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Clearly you do, or you wouldn’t be stuck with me.”

Wrapping arms around each other’s waists, they made their way back toward the large stone doors. “All of your patients told me that first day I met you what a catch you are, you know.”

Lykaon laughed. “Did they now.”

“Oh yes. Your young woman patient especially was put out that she couldn’t interest you.”

He smiled sideways at Alexios. “Women in general have never particularly interested me. She didn’t have a hope even before you came along.”

Alexios leaned the boar spear against the doors and propped himself up next to it, resting his hands on the small of Lykaon’s back. “That must have been a little difficult, in a small place like Delphi.”

The doctor shrugged and leaned in to kiss Alexios, letting his lips linger. “Could have been worse. There were always people passing through, and I met a lot of them as the local doctor. I had my work to keep me busy.”

“Still.”

“Well, yes. Still. But it all worked out, in the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Counting today (Friday 23 November) there are 7 days left to Nano and if I don't count the drabbles, I need to hit 2414 words a day. If I count the Drabbles I only need a little over 2100 words a day, but I'm going to try to hit 50k words on this.
> 
> ~~So it will all be over in a week. That's the bad news, given all the threads to be tied up.~~
> 
> ~~The good news is that I've got the sequel loosely plotted and I know how it will begin and end. So if you want to keep reading when this is done in a week, well, there should be more?~~
> 
> You know what, fuck it, this son of a bitch is going past NaNo. Because there's no point in writing a story just to unnaturally end it at 50k words if it needs to go longer, and this does so I can wrap everything up. Y'all have been sticking with me even when I had no idea what I was doing and the thing to do here is write the story that wants to be told so that you have a good story. So that's the story I'm gonna tell and OH GOD NOW I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN IT WILL END. But you've been with me, leaving kudos and subscribing and bookmarking and leaving comments and being kind and therefore I'm telling this damn story if it takes me until January.
> 
> ...yes, you did just watch someone have a heartwearming meltdown in the endnotes of a fic chapter. But the kindness and support has meant A LOT to me.
> 
> Historical Note:  
> When Alexios says "I don't deserve you" it goes a little deeper than it would if you or I said it. To Ancient Greeks, what you deserved was a matter of destiny set at your birth, and the punishment from the gods for reaching for more than your moira (μοῖρα - apportionment, alloted destiny) would be quite severe. So what he's saying is a little closer to terrifying existential dread of waiting for the gods to strike him down for daring to be happy than just "you're way nicer to me than I feel like you should be."
> 
> Classical Greece was VERY big on Predestined Fates, Birth Determines Destiny, etc etc etc. Sure, they believed in free will, but they also believed that the station to which you were born determined what you got in life and that everyone had to keep to their assigned places in order for society to function. If people started breaking out of those assigned roles it would be chaos! CHAOS THEY WOULD TELL YOU if they were still here, which they aren't. Despite how incredibly messy their language is to learn (LEARN LATIN INSTEAD I'M TELLING YOU) they were a people who liked the world nice and tidy and divided up into well understood hierarchies of who owed what to whom under what circumstances.
> 
> Sharp eyes with a little knowledge of Greek myth will recognize "moira/μοῖρα" -- The Moirai/Μοῖραι were the three Fates who together determined a person's destiny from birth. By some accounts they even determined the destinies of the gods. Wiggle room was provided by Tyche/Τύχη - Lady Luck.


	23. We could be heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, seriously, family is really terrible sometimes.
> 
> Do I need to warn for spoilers again? I've been flinging them around right and left, so here is a reminder: SPOILERS EVERYWHERE.

Alexios smiled, tightening his arms just enough to keep Lykaon close. “It did work out. I don’t know who I’d be without you to remind me to be human.”

The doctor linked his fingers behind Alexios’s neck. “You’re a good man, beloved. You’d be the same with me or without me.”

“Shall we venture back into the cruel world?”

Lykaon kissed him again. “I suppose we’d better, before Barnabas thinks we’ve killed each other.”

The mercenary picked up his boar spear and touched the broken spear to the inside of the doors. They swung open, making both men squint in the sunlight, and they paused just outside the cavern to let their eyes adjust. It was just as their blindness was about to clear that an arrow whirred between their heads. Lykaon threw himself away from it, and Alexios, reflexively, hitting the ground on his back.

Everything hung motionless for a moment, and then he heard a voice say, “Let’s try this again, brother.”

“Stentor.” Alexios’s voice was cautious. “What do you want?”

The general was standing at the top of the hill, flanked by two archers on either side. “I want you to come back to Sparta with me. It’s not open to argument.”

“You’re right, it’s not. I’m not going.”

“There’s six more archers above and behind you. They’re not aiming at you, Alexios, they’re aiming at the doctor. Your life is not the one at risk here if you continue to be recalcitrant. You can submit now, or one of my men will put an arrow in his right leg.”

Lykaon looked up to the cliff above. Six men were silhouetted there, bows drawn. He could hear Alexios swearing, and when he looked back down at the mercenary rigid tension was written in every line of his body.

“Make your choice, brother. They won’t shoot you, they’ll shoot your lover. And they’re under instructions not to aim anywhere…immediately lethal. He’ll suffer for quite some time.”

“All right!” Alexios barked. “I’m coming with you, Stentor. Swear to me that he and the Adrestia and all her crew go free and unharmed when I do. Swear it by the Earth and Sky and the waters of the Styx.”

Stentor nodded. “May the Earth, the vast Sky above, and the waters of the Styx which go down to Hades witness that no harm shall come to your lover, your ship, or your crew if you come with me. They shall go free wherever they wish to go in the world.”

“All right. May I say farewell?”

“Be quick about it.”

Alexios turned to Lykaon, extending a hand to help him up, and pulled him into his arms. “Lykaiskos. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Go, be happy. Barnabas will take you wherever you want.”

Lykaon held on, tightly. “Alexios, no. Surely there’s some way…”

The mercenary rested his forehead against Lykaon’s. “I can’t risk them hurting you. I won’t. The chest on the Adrestia has a false bottom, there’s drachmae under there. I won’t need it. I love you, Lykaon, please, go and be happy.”

The doctor said softly, “I won’t let this be goodbye, stubborn man. I won’t let them do this to you. I’ll come for you.”

Stentor called from the hill, “Time’s up, Alexios. We need to leave with the tide. Our mother is waiting and so is Sparta.”

Alexios let go, reluctantly, and backed away two steps, filling his eyes with a last look at Lykaon before turning and walking up the hill. Reaching Stentor, he met his eyes squarely and said in a low voice, “The worst part of this is that I can’t even gut you later if I’m going to put someone else on the throne.”

Stentor smirked. “We all make difficult choices, _brother_.”

Someone moved behind the mercenary but before he could turn, there was an impact to the back of his head and everything went dark.

* * *

Lykaon watched Alexios walk away, his mind racing. He was frozen in place with horror at the heartlessness of what had just happened, right up until he saw one of Stentor’s men take a swing at the back of his beloved’s head. Such blows could kill, he was a doctor, he knew. He had seen it. But before he could move more than half a step, an archer had dropped from the cliff above and grabbed him, barking “Stay here!”

He could only watch as Stentor’s men put the mercenary’s limp body in chains, trying not to scream. He wished he’d had Alexios teach him to be violent. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so helpless, then. But finally one of the larger Spartans picked up the flopping body of his beloved. Stentor gestured to the other men, and they followed him over the hill, heading away from where the Adrestia was moored. The one holding Lykaon shoved him, hard, bouncing him off the rock wall behind him hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

Alexios’s boar spear was lying on the ground nearby. He picked it up, leaning on it a moment, then began trudging toward the Adrestia. Barnabas saw him coming once he came over the hill and came rushing to meet him, Odessa and Roxana right behind him.

“We saw Spartan sails, lad! Where’s the Commander?”

Lykaon shook his head. “It was Stentor. They took him.”

Roxana came up beside him and got a shoulder under his arm as he stumbled. “Keep it together, doctor. Tell us what happened.”

“They were…they were waiting when we came out. Stentor said they’d shoot me if he didn’t go with them. He had archers with him. He made Stentor swear we would be unharmed, and then they clubbed him over the head and took him.”

The captain shook his shaggy head. “This is a mess, lad, and no mistake.”

Odessa and Roxana exchanged a look. “Getting him back won’t be easy.”

Barnabas looked alarmed. “Breaking him out of an Athenian jail is one thing! We had help, and we didn’t have the entire city against us.”

Odessa leapt to the deck of Adrestia and held out a hand to help Lykaon across. “We work with what we have, Captain. We can’t just let Sparta take him, you heard him when that prig was here.”

“And really, after all he’s done for us all, I can’t imagine you’d even think of just leaving him.” Roxana eyed Barnabas severely, stepping across to the ship and putting an arm around Lykaon’s shoulders. “Besides, we’ve just gotten a ship’s doctor, and he’ll probably pine himself to death without the Commander.”

Lykaon looked from one woman to the next in stunned gratitude. “I…I thought I’d have to do this alone. I can’t tell you—”

Odessa hugged him. “Nah, you’re part of the crew now. We don’t leave our own behind.”

“Fine, fine. But we’re going to need a plan. Aristophanes made the plan last time,” Barnabas grumbled.

“Just let me have a moment to think, there has to be a way,” Lykaon replied.

Roxana handed him a bowl. “Drink this. Go sit down. Let your head clear. We’re safe enough here for now, doc, we can give you a little bit.”

“Is there water in it this time?”

The lieutenant grinned at him. “Watered wine is for old men like Barnabas. Go, sit, drink. We’ll bring you some food. Then you can tell us how we’re going to get our commander back.”

Lykaon did as he was bidden, sipping at the bowl of wine cautiously. It wasn’t as bad as the normal run of ship wine he’d been exposed to and he suspected the women had a stash of better drink somewhere on board. He was maybe a third of the way through it when they joined him, one on either side. Odessa handed him bread and cheese. “Well?”

He sighed. “I thought of something. But it’s possibly stupid and suicidal and we need to change the sail.”

Roxana laughed. “We’re great at stupid and suicidal, have you seen us following Alexios? And changing the sail is no problem at all. What sail do you want to fly?”

The doctor looked up at the yardarm. “Any sail but his. As different as we can get.”

Odessa grinned. “The snakes. They’ll be perfect since we’ve got a commander with Asklepios for a patron until we get _the_ Commander back.”

“Definitely the snakes. Barnabas! The doctor needs you to change out the sail! Put the snakes on!”

Lykaon looked alarmed. “I’m not anyone’s commander!”

The little Greek woman patted his arm and Roxana elbowed him. “Of course you are. What, you’re going to leave Barnabas in charge? He can’t even buy decent wine.”

Sailors swarmed up the mast and out along the yardarms, lowering the bull’s head sail that Alexios sailed under and then untying it. Lykaon felt something twist inside at that and had to look away. Odessa put an arm around his shoulders. “Eat, doctor. Then tell us where we’re going and what the plan is. We’ll get him back, I promise you.”

He stared at the food in his hand. “He must be so miserable.”

Roxana stroked his hair gently. “Shhh. What would you be telling him? Eat. You can’t stage a dramatic rescue if you’re weak from hunger.”

Laughing faintly, Lykaon took a bite and managed to swallow. “Lady Roxana, that’s unfair tactics.”

“Fair tactics don’t win wars. And we told you, there’s no ladies on the Adrestia. Keep your strength up, doctor.”

“Call me Lykaon, please, both of you.”

“We will,” said Odessa, squeezing his shoulders gently. “But eat first.”

He gave in and ate, watching as the rest of the crew raised a pale orange sail with a pattern of serpents arranged around a lion’s face on it, then raised it the rest of the way and tied the bundle neatly to the yardarms.

“Good. Now where are we going?”

“Sparta.”

“Bold,” Roxana grinned. “I like it. What’s the plan when we get there?”

“I’m going to go to the palace and tell him to come back with me.”

Odessa raised an eyebrow. “And what stops the entire Spartan fleet from sinking us afterward?”

Lykaon smiled a small, grim smile. “I’ve got a plan for that, too. But since it depends on Spartan honor, it might be safer to get out overland.”

Roxana snorted. “They’re notoriously touchy about their honor. One of us will keep the Adrestia standing by for you, the other will play bodyguard.”

“You’re wonderful, the both of you.” Lykaon leaned back and looked up at the sky. “Maybe we really can make this work.”

“We will. Nobody wants Barnabas running around unsupervised.”

He took a deep breath. “Right. Well. Let’s tell Barnabas where we’re headed. We’ll need to stop somewhere with a decent agora on the way, and let Stentor’s fleet get far enough ahead of us for him to relax. I don’t want Alexios getting—” He swallowed thickly and tried again. “I don’t want Alexios getting hurt. Because we made the general nervous.” Lykaon groped for a corner of his himation and wiped his eyes. 

Roxana took the bowl of wine from his hands as Odessa put both arms around him. “There, there, Lykaon. It’s been a very long day. You’re all right, and before you know it you’ll be back with him.”

* * *

Alexios awoke in confusion. He was in a tent, and his head hurt. The ground rocked underneath him like a ship’s deck. He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck and chains clinked. Everything came rushing back to him and he snapped his head up, instantly regretting it. Stentor walked in as he finished emptying his stomach.

“Really, a dog would be less trouble.”

The mercenary flopped back onto the pallet he was lying on. “I was already coming with you. You brought this on yourself.”

A young sailor came in, making a face, and began to clean up the vomit. Stentor seated himself at a small desk across the tent. “To the contrary, Alexios, you brought this on both of us. You could have just stayed home and been a dutiful son. Instead you had to go running off to embarrass the family, and then Myrrine is pulling strings with Archidamos to get a Spartan general sent after you.”

He stared up at the fabric ceiling. “Myrrine should have listened when I said I didn’t want to get married.”

“You can’t possibly think you can spend your life behaving like an Athenian philosopher. You’re a member of House Agiad. We have a place to uphold. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of that. And I certainly wasn’t going to let you make me fail a mission given to me by the only king Sparta has right now.”

“I did enough. There wouldn’t be a house but you and one sad broken old man if I hadn’t stepped in.”

“For which we’re all duly grateful. But your duty isn’t done. I can’t believe I have to explain this to you.”

Alexios put an arm over his face. “You’re not the head of the house yet, Stentor, stop acting like you are. You have no idea what making sure you had something to inherit cost me.”

The general rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, poor Alexios. Hero of Megara, darling of Sparta, beloved son of Nikolaos even now. Do you ever get over yourself?”

“Faster than you get over me, it sounds like. How long has Megara been eating away at you, baby brother?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not, baby brother? Don’t like being reminded of the family connection? Have a problem with affectionate address from your big brother?”

“I’m a general of Sparta, _mercenary_. I’m not a baby. And I’m only your brother because you didn’t have the decency to stay disappeared.”

Alexios grinned behind his arm in spite of the headache. “Oh that did touch a nerve, didn’t it, baby brother.”

The general lunged out of his chair, his foot connecting with the prone man’s side. “I told you not to call me that.”

Curled up, coughing, and hoping Lykaon’s stitches held, Alexios nonetheless managed to choke out, “Better not damage me too much. Mother won’t like it much if you do, baby brother.”

Stentor stormed out of the tent at that, leaving him alone to wheeze and try to recover. He stayed curled up and breathing shallowly, eyes closed, letting the pain recede and his muscles relax. Finally he could take a whole breath again. He hoped Stentor had kept his word, and Lykaon was safe on board the Adrestia with Barnabas. He could set himself up anywhere in the Greek world, be safe and happy. Sparta on the other hand, was going to burn. Alexios wasn’t expecting to make it out of that unless the damnable staff Pythagoras had given him really did stop him from being killed by any means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greek plays are full of people getting swatted by the Gods for refusing to be dutiful sons. As I mentioned in yesterday's historical note, they were very big on the lines of obligation that held society together.
> 
> Also, how awkward is it that you can recruit a bunch of Alexios's one night stands to be crew on his ship? It's got to get tense on occasion, especially since they all talk amongst themselves.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whither thou goest I will go.

The agora at Delos was exactly what Lykaon had been hoping for: well-stocked with merchants hoping to attract the attention of wealthy pilgrims and their attendant households alike. He turned to the women beside him. “All right. Who’s coming with me, and who stays with the Adrestia?”

Roxana shook her head. “Take Odessa with you. Her father was a wealthy farmer, and besides, I don’t even pretend to be a man’s servant.”

Lykaon nodded, absently chewing his bottom lip. “If everything works out neatly, I’m hoping to end up in the palace.”

“Definitely Odessa. She’s less likely to punch someone.”

“I can see why you and Alexios are friends.”

Roxana laughed. “He’s the only man I’ve met who could match me in a fight.”

“The basis of all good friendships.” Lykaon headed for a cloth merchant’s booth, gesturing Odessa up beside him. “Something in red, I think.” He held a length of linen up below Odessa’s face. He and Roxana regarded her thoughtfully. He looked up at the merchant. “Do you have a length of yellow to match the border on this?”

“You’re clearly a discriminating man, what a lucky woman your wife is. I have just the thing.”

Lykaon blushed and muttered while the two women chortled, but the clothier came back with a length of yellow bordered in red checks to match the red and he nodded with satisfaction. “Perfect. Now there’s just the price.”

A lengthy haggle later, he was bordering on smug. A stop at two herbalists’ stalls and a jeweler procured the rest of what he needed, and then he had the presence of mind to visit a wine merchant and have something drinkable sent to the ship.

“What about for you?” Odessa asked curiously.

“Oh, I’ve got clothing that will work for what I have in mind. Most of this hinges on the fact that only Stentor has seen any of us, and I don’t think he was paying attention. I hope he wasn’t paying attention.”

“Good thought,” Roxana nodded. “The two of you should be able to walk right into Sparta.”

“Does anyone just walk right into Sparta?” Odessa asked. “It’s never sounded like a great place to visit.”

“Merchants, I suppose,” Lykaon mused, navigating his way to the temple of Apollo. “But there’s no way we’d be believable as merchants. We’ll keep it simple. I’m a physician seeking service with Sparta’s army, to acquire more experience. Odessa will be my servant and assistant.”

The petite Greek woman laughed. “They’ll all assume we’re sleeping together.”

“All the better, then none of them will suspect I’m there to carry their prince away to a life of moral degeneracy. Do the two of you mind waiting here? I’d like to make an offering.”

The women took the bundles from him and shooed him towards the temple. He stopped to ask directions of a priestess and, following them, found himself in a courtyard before an altar. Behind it stood a statue of Apollo’s son, Asklepios. Lykaon took grains of frankincense from his belt pouch and laid them reverently on the altar, then stood before the god with his arms raised. “Gentle Asklepios, savior who loves the people, watch over Alexios while we’re parted. Keep him safe in Lakonia, and safe deliver him to me again. I have served you as well as I know how, compassionate Asklepios, and I will continue to serve.” He waited, listening, and came away feeling comforted.

Back on the ship, they set sail with Barnabas under firm instructions to avoid both pirates and the Spartan navy. Lykaon tried not to pace and fret and finally took advantage of a lamp to heat water make himself tea with chamomile and mint he’d purchased in the agora. He felt naked and defenseless despite the ship and the skilled crew without Alexios’s warm presence at his side. Feeling sheepish, he rummaged through the chest at the stern until he found an older, soft chlamys of the mercenary’s, and wrapped it around his shoulders. The edges were tattered and frayed but it smelled comfortingly of Alexios. Over it he wrapped a himation, then stretched out on the bench on his back and watched the stars overhead. Eventually, he slept.

Dawn woke him and the sense of dislocation stabbed at his gut all over again. Barnabas snored on deck amid the crew while Roxana stood watch at the stern. He padded over to lean on the rail next to her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. We’ve had good winds overnight. We’ll make Melos this afternoon and stop there for fresh water and to stretch our legs. Then another day to Gypheion. From there, you and Odessa can take horses or walk to Sparta.”

Lykaon nodded, pulling chlamys and himation around himself more tightly. “And then we’ll be on our own. Hopefully all will go smoothly.”

“I’m sure Barnabas will sacrifice a goat to ensure it. He’s a terror to goat populations all over the Greek world with his piety.”

“There are worse ways to be a terror to goat populations.”

Roxana slapped his arm. “Did you just make a sex joke? And here we were all taking bets on you being much too shy.”

Laughing tiredly, Lykaon shook his head. “It wears off eventually, I guess. Alexios wears a lot of it off a person.”

“I wouldn’t know, I was as shameless as he is already when we met. Now Odessa, she was a wealthy farmer’s daughter with dreams of greatness. I had to teach her to swear.”

“And the rest of the crew?”

“A lot of them were with Barnabas already. A few have joined up since Alexios came along. He’s been a good Commander for us, though. Plenty of adventure, plenty of money. Some of us decide to go back to land from time to time once we’ve saved up enough for a farm or a house in a city.”

“He seems to make friends easily. I’m hoping it will keep him safe until Odessa and I can stage a daring rescue.”

“You heard Stentor. His mother wants him on the throne, I don’t think she’s going to kill him.”

“What if he refuses to take it? How long before she decides he’s more of a problem than she wants to deal with?”

She waved his concerns away. “The gods judge the murder of family members harshly. She’ll keep him alive.”

“The gods may judge the murder of family members harshly, but Sparta sometimes requires it. And you _have_ met the man when he sets out to irritate someone, haven’t you?”

“Truth. When you put it that way, he might be lucky to make it back to Sparta alive. That brother of his is a man with a hair-trigger temper if I’ve ever seen one.”

* * *

“Are you going to walk into Sparta like a civilized man, or do I put you in a cage and display you like a war trophy?”

Alexios leaned on the railing of the ship as it pulled into Gytheion. “Do I get the chains off if I agree to walk?”

“Do I look like an idiot?” Stentor snorted.

“If I answer that, you’re going to take a swing at me again. Beating a man in chains is hardly honorable, baby brother.”

Stentor gritted his teeth. “A cage it is. Myrrine will be _so pleased_ to see you being reasonable.”

The mercenary shrugged casually. “She’s used to disappointment. Just look at the son her husband adopted for her to replace me.”

Soldiers wrestled him into the cage none too gently after that, but he took some pride in the fact that one of them would never walk right on his left knee again, and several others were nursing bruises to more than their pride. It had taken them much too long to realize they could hook the chain between his wrist and ankle manacles and use that to their advantage. The bottom of the cage was lumpy and uneven but worn smooth, so at least splinters weren’t a concern. Alexios sat himself down for the ride to Sparta and brooded.

* * *

Lykaon dressed himself with care, in the clothing of a prosperous physician. The jewelry Alexios had bought him in Athens brought another knifelike pang to his gut, but he put it on regardless. He bundled most of the purchases he’d made in Delos into a bundle with changes of clothing for both him and Odessa, then checked in with her to make sure it wasn’t too heavy. She laughed at him. “I’ve been rowing and hauling ropes and sails for almost a year, Lykaon, what makes you think this little bundle will be too much?”

Docked at Gytheion, their prosperous appearance got them a place on a cart headed to Sparta. Lykaon sat next to the driver and asked about the medical arrangements of the Spartan army. Odessa sat atop crates of goods headed for a Spartan merchant in back, watching the countryside go by. The carter eventually delivered them at the grand stairs, and Lykaon dusted himself off. “Well, that was productive.”

“Was it? I was watching the helots. The fields in this valley look fertile, but most of the workers are too thin.”

“If all else fails, I suppose we can try to raise a helot rebellion. But first, the carter told me that general Lysander is here. Alexios mentioned working for him, he might be our way into the army and the court. Someone in one of those places will know something.”

Odessa nodded. “Clever, doctor. Clever. Shall we go?”

It would have been a brief walk to the tomb of Leonidas, where Lysander oversaw the training of soldiers, if it hadn’t started with ascending the stairs. But Lykaon managed to be composed and, he hoped, dignified as he approached the soldiers there. A polite enquiry later and he stood before the general introducing himself.

“A physician, you say. From Phokis. What are you doing in Sparta?”

“Sparta and Phokis are closely tied, general, so that when I thought to offer my services to one of the armies I naturally decided upon Lakonia. It would be my honor to serve the Spartaites in the field. I’m known to General Anaxilas, in Phokis, where I served his men after the recent battle.”

“Hah, yes, the one the Eagle Bearer won for us. Why are you here in Sparta then, instead of at home in Phokis?”

Lykaon looked down, modestly he hoped. “Even a doctor might hope for travel and adventure, general, in the course of his work.”

Lysander regarded him a moment, blank-faced. “And you bring your own assistant, even. Well, perhaps this might profit us both. Come, and see the training we do. Today is practice for our more experienced soldiers, to inspire the younger men before we march out again against Athens.” He led the way to a training ground where archery targets and straw dummies had been pushed back to the edge, forming an arena. A pair of men faced off inside, while younger soldiers watched from behind the barrier of practice equipment.

Lykaon took a seat beside him, gesturing Odessa to a place near his feet. “Do you also train in phalanx?”

“Of course. But as a battle goes on, every phalanx will break. Then a man must know how to defeat an enemy on his own.”

“They seem very skilled.” 

“They are Spartaites. Their skill is— Apollo Karneios, what fuckery is this?” At the far side of the arena a group of burly guards had spoken to the stratagos on duty and were allowed to the edge of the arena. They accompanied a woman dressed in Spartan red, her back straight although her hair was graying. Lysander gestured to an aide. “Go and ask Myrrine what she thinks she’s doing bringing him down here. The idea is to inspire my young soldiers, not humiliate my older ones.”

The young man pelted off, the general’s eyes watching him. He spoke to the woman briefly, and then she navigated through the crowd around the makeshift arena to Lysander. Lykaon watched her curiously and as she got closer, tried to remember to breathe. She and Alexios had the same eyes, dark and intense.

“General, good afternoon.”

“Myrrine. How can the army of Sparta assist you?”

“I thought you might allow my son to practice with your men. Under supervision, of course.”

Lysander sighed. “Myrrine, how am I supposed to inspire my young soldiers when the Eagle Bearer defeats their elders one by one?”

“Perhaps allow him to train the younger ones, then. He needs some purpose, General, that binds him to Sparta.” Myrrine bowed her head.

“That I could allow. Talk to Eusebios, he’ll get it organized.”

“Thank you, General.” She walked away, back to the group of soldiers who’d come with her. Lykaon, watching, saw a shorter man in the middle of the group and his heart stuttered.

“Terrible story there,” Lysander shook his head. “The general Stentor brought him back two days ago, chained and caged. Some whiff of scandal, we’d heard he’d run off to be with a male lover. Myrrine has him locked away now, and searches for a bride for him.”

Odessa pinched Lykaon’s calf, hard, jolting him out of his spinning thoughts. “A terrible story indeed.”

“If you ask me, he just needs a good woman and a good meal. War makes men strange, sometimes, and the gods know that the Eagle Bearer has seen enough of it.”

Lykaon nodded. “I’ve seen it, myself, in men returning from battles. Some never quite recover. Perhaps I should send Odessa to him. Do you think Myrrine would accept a gift? My girl is…very talented.”

The general clapped his shoulder hard enough to make him glad he was sitting, lest he be staggered. “A generous impulse, friend Lykaon. Certainly it’s worth the try. I’ll present you at court this evening so you can be assigned to a syssitia, and we’ll send her home with Myrrine then.”

“I entrust myself to your care, general. It would be a disastrous thing for Sparta to lose one of her sons, especially one as powerful as the Eagle Bearer.”

“Indeed. We need every man to break the back of Athens and her grip on the Greek world. But let us go and I’ll show you where you’ll be assigned after the presentation at court. You’ll eat and sleep with the men you’ll be primarily responsible for in the field, to draw tight the bonds of brotherhood.”

“I look forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A collection of brief historical notes:  
> The syssitia in Sparta was the communal barracks, part of the agoge, in which a Spartaite (citizen) man lived from age 7 to age 30. He also had to contribute to the cost of food for banquets there. If he could no longer afford to contribute to the syssitia, then he lost his citizenship.
> 
> The word for a bottom in a homosexual male relationship was "pathikos". Well, the polite word. The impolite word for men who enjoyed being penetrated by other (adult) men was kinaidoi. All of this is entirely separate from the practice of older men taking adolescent and young adult men as lovers -- the term for the adult man was "erastes" and for the younger "eromenos". To be an eromenos didn't carry any stigma, only to be an adult man who enjoyed being the receptive partner to another adult man. The past is not just another country, but it's one where the customs are sometimes fucked up.
> 
> Oaths were indeed sacred in Ancient Greece. The word for oath, "ὅρκος" (horkos), originally referred to a physical object which was called upon to witness the oath. After some time, these objects called upon to witness an oath got slightly more metaphorical. The oath that Alexios requires Stentor to swear, by the earth, sky, and the Styx, is the "great oath of the gods" and by far the most serious oath that could be required of a man. Eventually the concept was deified as Horkos the god, who was the one who would exact retribution on those who broke their oaths. (There are enormous amounts of literature on oaths in Ancient Greece and if you are trying to read them past your bedtime you will inevitably find yourself considering the fact that "horkos" sounds like a word related to cat vomit.)
> 
> I have no idea what year it is in this game honestly. The chronology is SO CONFUSED. Layla Hassan says 431BCE at the very beginning, but today I finished Lysander's "go murder Athenian polemarchoi" quest and he referenced murdering 3000 prisoners, which happened in 405BCE at the END of the (second) Peloponnesian War, not at the beginning 25 years earlier. Oh yeah, did you know this is actually the second Peloponnesian War? It is.


	25. Let the night air cool you off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief reunion. Lykaon reveals hidden depths of satire. The beginnings of plans are laid.

The presentation to Archidamos, the elderly remaining king, was brief. Afterward Lysander led Lykaon to a social gathering in another wing of the palace, where the nobility mingled with the ruling council of ephors. Myrrine was there, a grey-haired man by her side. So was Stentor, across the room from his parents and deep in conversation with other generals. Lykaon sent up a fervent prayer that he wouldn’t be recognized.

“Myrrine, Nikolaos.” Lysander nodded to both and gestured toward the doctor. “Allow me to introduce Lykaon Arkadiou, of Phokis. He’s recently accepted a place as a physician in my staff.”

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Lykaon smiled and half-bowed.

“You’re a long way from home, doctor,” Nikolaos commented, studying him.

“Despite the fact that Delphi is the center of the world, sometimes it can feel small. I thought to put my skills to use, and see something of the world as well. Since I have a recommendation from Anaxilas, I decided to offer my services to Sparta’s rising young generals at home.”

Myrrine smiled at him. “An admirable desire, healer. Sparta’s army can certainly make use of your skills.”

“Indeed, Lady, General Lysander mentioned that your son was troubled. I thought perhaps to send my servant Odessa to him. She and I have some experience with soldiers fatigued and troubled by battle.”

Nikolaos shook his head. “I think she is not what he needs now. We would however be grateful if you would attend him, physician. He has a wound in his side that was previously sewn, very competently, but I’d be happier to have it looked at again.”

“I am at your disposal, General,” Lykaon half-bowed again. “General Lysander, is there perhaps a clinic I might use? Or a room that might serve? As you undoubtedly know, the great Hippokrates recommends privacy for treatment, feeling that patients will be more honest when there is no audience to their conversation with the healer.”

“Of course,” Lysander nodded absently. “There is a clinic in my headquarters. I’ll send Eusebios to you, he’ll take you there.”

“You are very kind, General.”

Myrrine studied Lykaon sharply for a moment, then relented. “All right. Allow us another few moments, and then we’ll have him brought to you.”

Lysander departed, and moments later Eusebios appeared, quiet and efficient, at Lykaon’s elbow. He bade Myrrine and Nikolaos farewell, and followed the stratagos out into the night time streets. At one end of the training stoa was indeed a room that had been outfitted as a clinic, with a sturdy door. Lykaon thanked his guide and busied himself inventorying the supplies there, pleased to find it well-stocked. He stationed Odessa with a good view of the approach and sat down to wait, trying to ignore the shaking of his hands and his stomach doing flips.

It seemed an eternity before Odessa’s whistle warned him that people were coming. He composed himself as best he could, and hoped as Myrrine arrived with both guards and Alexios that he looked normal. He didn’t dare look at his beloved, fixing his eyes on Myrrine’s face.

“Lady Myrrine, welcome. I’ve found the clinic here well-stocked. General Lysander is to be praised for his foresight in supplying healers.”

She shook her head. “More likely it was Eusebios, he usually sees to the matter of supplies. At any rate, Lykaon Arkadiou of Phokis, this is my son, Alexios Nikolaou, called the Eagle Bearer.”

Lykaon clapped a hand to his chest, eyes wide. “The Eagle Bearer himself! I’m honored and humbled by your presence. Songs are sung of you all over Phokis, but especially in Delphi. Please, come into the clinic.” He dared to glance at Alexios then, seeing the shadows under his eyes, the weariness in his shoulders, and an expression on his face that warred between surprise and a suppressed smile that hinted that he wasn’t going to forget this.

“Go, Alexios.” Myrrine put a hand on his arm. “Let the healer look at you. We don’t want you losing the use of that shoulder, and perhaps he can find some physical cause for your sulking.”

Thus instructed, the mercenary did as he was told. Lykaon shut the door behind him and barred it as quietly as he could before turning back and finding himself in Alexios’s arms. He leaned into his beloved’s chest, wrapping his own arms around Alexios’s shoulders, and their lips found each other. It seemed both a long time and not nearly long enough before they could bear to break the kiss, resting their foreheads against each other.

“Lykaon,” Alexios’s whisper was raspy. “I never thought I’d see you again, my heart. Why are you _here_ , I told you to go.”

“And I told you I’d come for you, Alexiskos. How could you think I could be happy without you? Odessa and I came to take you out of here.”

“It won’t make any difference. They’ll send someone for me again.”

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving Sparta without you. If I have to stay here working for Lysander, so be it.”

Alexios buried his face against Lykaon’s neck. “No. They won’t be kind to you here.”

“You can’t make me leave you, beloved. Stop trying and help me figure out how we both leave here together.”

“Kassandra. You need to talk to her. She promised to help me, when Stentor brought me back. We just haven’t had time to kill the guards, steal horses, and ride off.”

Lykaon rubbed his palms against the tense muscles in the mercenary’s shoulders. “I will. The Adrestia is waiting in Gypheion, to carry us wherever we need to go. Even if it’s as far as Massilia.”

“You’d hate living in a colony. No luxuries there.”

“But think of all the fascinating injuries from bears. And speaking of fascinating injuries, let me look at you before they get the idea something other than a medical exam is going on in here.”

They reluctantly stepped back from one another, hands still touching. Lykaon’s face went still at the chafed skin on his lover’s wrists. But when Alexios unfastened the shoulders of his chiton and exposed the bruising on his side from Stentor’s kick, fury blazed in the normally mild doctor’s eyes. “From your brother? I’ll kill him.”

Alexios lifted and dropped one shoulder in a minimal shrug. “I provoked him deliberately. Besides, you’re not a killer, Lykaiskon.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes, fingers gently exploring for broken bones. “Fine. I’ll make him so incredibly, miserably ill that he begs for the embrace of death.”

The mercenary reached out and trailed fingertips over his cheekbone and down into the softness of his beard. “That’s…remarkably vicious. And yet leaves him alive to take the Agiad throne. I approve.”

“Perhaps someone will leave me alone with his wine bowl.” Lykaon caught his hand, turning to kiss the palm. “He didn’t break any ribs. There’s a little pus around some of the stitches, but it just needs cleaning. Sit, sit.” Waving Alexios into a chair he took up the jug of vinegar and a clean rag. “Another week, maybe, and the stitches can come out. If you can stay out of trouble.”

He smiled at that. “Apparently I get to start helping to train Lysander’s young men. Amateurs with swords are worse than professionals.”

“Gentle Asklepios preserve your hide. Maybe make them practice on each other instead of you.”

Alexios snagged Lykaon’s hand and tugged him gently down into his lap. “What’s in it for me?”

The doctor leaned into his chest, rubbing the backs of one set of fingers over the stubble along his jaw. “Hmmm. Good question, since I can’t cook for you here. I’ll think of something.”

“What I’m thinking is that if I’m working for Lysander and get injured, then I get treated by Lysander’s physician.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I missed you.”

Lykaon kissed him gently. “And I, you. It was all I could to not to rush here unprepared and storm the palace.”

Resting his head against the doctor’s shoulder, Alexios said softly, “It wouldn’t have worked well. Talk to Kass. She’ll help us, she doesn’t like Stentor or kidnapping.”

“I will. We’ll be gone as soon as it can be managed, beloved. I even have some thoughts on keeping Stentor from coming after us.”

“I’ll leave it in your capable hands.” The mercenary sighed. “We’d probably better go before someone objects.”

Reluctantly, Lykaon stood. “I’ll see you as soon as I can manage, though.”

Alexios took his hand and squeezed it. “I know. Oh, and Lykaiskos?”

“Yes, love?”

“I _will_ get revenge for that Eagle Bearer business.”

Lykaon grinned, unbarring the door. “I couldn’t resist. When will I ever have another opportunity like that?” But he was all business when he swung the portal open and addressed Myrrine. “All patched up. He should be fine to train Lysander’s men, but I’d like to monitor his healing just the same. It doesn’t seem any ribs were broken, but.”

She nodded. “Thank you, doctor. Alexios, come.”

Odessa joined him at the doorway and they watched her lead her son and his guards into the night. The little woman patted him on the arm. “Feel better, now?”

“I do.” He breathed out a sigh. “I need to find a way to talk to his sister, Odessa. Without arousing suspicion.”

She gnawed on a thumbnail. “I think I know how to get a message to her. It will be easier for me, anyhow, unless you want to give people the impression you’re vying for her hand in marriage.”

“Asklepios the savior, no! We have enough complications without adding that one, too.”

“That’s what I thought. I’ll arrange to run into her tomorrow, then, when the baths are open to women.”

“Alexios owes you a raise in pay when this is all over.”

Odessa grinned. “Don’t forget to tell him so.”

* * *

Alexios stared into the dark in his room, lighter of heart than he had been since seeing Stentor on board the Adrestia and replaying each moment with Lykaon. A knock interrupted his reverie, and then his sister’s head poked cautiously through the door.

“Still alive, then?”

“Still alive, little sister. Come in.”

Kassandra came in and shut the door, dropping into a chair by his bed. “Where’d she take you?”

“Lysander has a new physician, from Phokis. She wanted him to check and make sure Stentor hadn’t done permanent damage.”

“The offer to stab him still stands.”

“And we still need him alive, unless you want to be caught up in the succession mess.”

She shook her head. “No. I need a purpose, it’s true, but that one would drive me mad.”

Alexios was quiet a moment. “Listen, little sister. I need your help.”

“Going to break out of jail?”

“That’s the general idea, yes. The physician from Phokis is a friend of mine. They have a ship waiting at Gytheion. I told him that he could come to you for help.”

“Of course he can. Keeping you locked up like this is a monstrosity, Alexios. It’s like the scent of power has driven Myrrine mad.”

He shrugged. “Thinking back, I’m not sure she didn’t have this planned all along. Why else wasn’t I in the agoge, instead of being taught at home? I should have been safe with the trainers, not getting thrown off Taygetos.”

“Think of all the adventures you’d have missed, though.”

“Some are worth it, it’s true. Others, well, not so much. You would have had more fun fighting Brontes the Thunderer or the Minotaur than I did.”

Kassandra chuckled at that. “Too late now, you’ve hogged all the glory. Just like a Spartan.” She stood. “I’ll find a way to meet with your friend, and we’ll get you out of here. For good this time, if I have to knife Stentor in the back myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The close ties between Phokis and Sparta, and thus Delphi falling under Spartan control, were in fact bones of contention in the Second Peloponnesian War, with which we concern ourselves. The kings of Sparta claimed not only descent from Herakles, but also a special connection to the gods and were the only allowed communications channel between Sparta and the Oracle at Delphi (as I think I noted in a previous end note, or was it a comment? Crap. I forget.)
> 
> The Greeks did indeed have public baths, although Roman baths are much more famous. In fact, heated baths were named "laconica baths" after the area around Sparta, where they were invented. Previous to the Spartans designing ways to heat the water in public baths, they were strictly cold water affairs. Men and women attended the baths separately; either two entirely different buildings were provided or a single building split its hours between male and female customers.


	26. I have never known peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is laid. A problem is solved.

It turned out, to Lykaon’s regret, that waking up at dawn was a habit of _the entire Spartan army_. The men of his syssitia weren’t quiet about it, either. With a mental note to try dosing every last one of them with sleeping powders if he had to stay here more than a few days, he rolled himself out of bed and into clothing. Then they were off to training, and he took himself to the clinic he’d appropriated last night. He’d rather go and watch the men train, to see Alexios again, but didn’t want to risk his face giving anything away. So instead he settled in with Odessa to do a more thorough inventory, making notes on what might need to be replaced and what stores might need to be increased. He almost regretted that he wouldn’t be here long enough to see it very thoroughly equipped, but at least his notes might help the next person.

A knock at the open door interrupted his count of neatly rolled linen bandages. He handed the sheet of papyrus to Odessa and looked up. A tall, muscular woman stood there, her brown hair braided over one shoulder and…eyes like Alexios’s. “Yes? May I help you?”

“I’m Kassandra, of House Agiad. I understand you’re treating my brother.”

Lykaon half-bowed. “Lykaon Arkadiou, of Delphi in Phokis. I am, at the request of your parents. Is there a problem?”

Kassandra shook her head, crossing her arms on her chest in a gesture Lykaon found achingly familiar. “No problem. But he was having trouble sleeping last night, so I offered to come see you while he was working with Lysander’s men today. Perhaps you have a way to help him sleep.” She was totally deadpan.

The doctor blinked and tried very hard not to blush. He wasn’t successful. “I, ah, yes. Yes, there are several things that might help. Hippokrates often recommends massage. And I’ve a supply of mint and chamomile with me that might be made into a tea.”

“I’ll ask him what he prefers. But honestly he’ll probably want a massage from you personally.” She came further into the clinic and looked him over, then lowered her voice. “You have a ship, I understand?”

He nodded, still blushing furiously. “The Adrestia. She’s docked at Gytheion.”

“Good. Send your servant to tell your crew to meet us just east of Limnai Marsh two nights from now. Do you want to go overland with me and Alexios, or do you prefer to go with the ship?”

“I’ll go with Alexios. You’re coming with us?”

“Just as far as getting him to his ship. After that, you’ll have to look after him. Meet us at moonrise at the house.”

Lykaon shook his head ruefully. “I’ll try to keep him out of trouble. It can be difficult.”

She shrugged. “You seem to make him happy. It will do.”

He blushed again, then, and turned to the shelves of herbal preparations in the clinic. “Let me send some things with you. To…make things easier.” He busied himself filling small linen packets and tying them with distinctively colored thread. “Here, this one with the green thread. It’s good for sleep, will make anyone sleep like the dead. Mix it with wine, wait half an hour, and perhaps bloodshed will be minimized. This one with the red thread…this is for Stentor. If you get a chance, sprinkle it on his food. Starting about six hours later, he will spend the next half a day unable to keep down food or drink.”

“Oh, you really did get a look at Alexios’s ribs, then. I thought perhaps that was merely subterfuge.”

Lykaon shook his head as Kassandra tucked the small packets into her belt. “No, it wasn’t deception. I really am a physician, and I do try to keep him in one piece.” He handed her a third packet. “This is chamomile and mint tea. He usually takes it with a ruinous amount of honey.”

She smiled at him then. “I’ll give it to him. And then night after next, gods willing, he’ll be your problem again and not mine. Until then, doctor.”

“Until then.”

Once she’d gone, Lykaon pressed money and a small bag of food into Odessa’s hands. “So now we have a plan. Try not to get arrested on your way back to the Adrestia, hmmm?”

Odessa grinned. “What, and ruin my chance to be a hero? Never. We’ll be waiting for you east of Limnai Marsh. Don’t any of you get hurt getting there.” She stood on tiptoes to kiss Lykaon on the cheek and ducked out the door, moving with a businesslike stride that had her through the crowd in the training stoa and out of sight within moments. He breathed a short prayer to Asklepios and turned back to inventorying bandages.

* * *

It was the nights here in Sparta, trapped in his parents’ house, that Alexios hated the most. For the past year, sleeping in a house had usually meant sleeping next to Lykaon; otherwise he’d been camped in the wilderness or stretched out on the deck of the Adrestia. This house, which one meant safety to the small boy he’d been, smelled wrong and sounded wrong now. And this bed was much too empty. The cup of tea helped, since his sister had brought him the little packet from Lykaon. It was soothing anyway, but knowing who had made the preparation up for him helped even more.

Kassandra’s characteristic knock upended his brooding, followed by Kassandra herself. She dropped into her customary chair. “I like him.”

He looked over at her from his place stretched on the bed, hands behind his head. “Like who?”

“Your doctor. He seems competent. And he’s pretty when he blushes.”

Alexios couldn’t stop his smile. “He’s both of those things. How did it go?”

“Two nights from tonight. I’ll see you two through Limnai Marsh. His servant has gone to tell the ship to meet you. He sent sleeping powder for your guards, seemed to think we might want to limit bloodshed.”

“He has a strange reluctance about it.”

She grinned. “He gave me something for Stentor, too.”

“May all the gods defend us. It’s not going to kill him, is it?”

“He said not. It sounds like death might be preferable, though. I really do like your doctor. It’s cute he puts a stupid smile on your face.”

“Listen, little sister. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

She rolled her eyes. “I already know about sex, Alexios.”

He threw a pillow at her. “Not that. The Cult.”

“What about them?” Her voice was wary.

“Someone should keep watch. To make sure they don’t come back. Our father gave me…a staff. That turned into a ball. It kept him alive for over a century.”

She raised both eyebrows. “That’s a long watch.”

Alexios nodded. “I know. But what if they return? Someone should know the signs. It’s just…I don’t want it. I don’t want to live forever and never age and never see Elysion.”

Kassandra propped her feet on his bed, nudging his shins. “Want to get old with your doctor friend, I take it?”

He glanced away. “That’s the idea. This thing Pythagoras gave me, it’s a curse, little sister.”

“So give it to me.”

He jerked his eyes back to her. “What?”

She was the one who looked away this time. “I have…a lot to make up for, brother. Even if you’ve forgiven me, I still need to redeem myself to others. Let me do this.”

Alexios held out a hand, and after a moment she took it. He squeezed gently and got a crooked smile from her.

“Maybe I’ll come see you and your doctor when you’re both old and grey. At the very least, someone can make sure you’re buried next to each other.”

He sat up then and pulled her into a fierce hug. “Thank you. I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

Kassandra returned the embrace, hard. “One of us should have a normal life. Well, as close to normal as we can. It was never going to be me, anyway.”

* * *

Lykaon lay in the darkness of the syssitia and listened to 14 other men sleeping. Some of them snored. At least two talked in their sleep. One of the younger ones, who had seen battle, was one of the worse talkers. Lykaon debated waking him from what were evidently unsettling dreams. It wasn’t just the noise keeping him awake, though. The barracks smelled wrong. The moonlight coming in the windows was wrong. His pallet was comfortable enough, but it wasn’t his comfortable bed at home that knew his body.

He rolled over again and pulled a fold of his blanket over his head. Tomorrow night he’d be on his way out of Sparta with Alexios. They would go find a little house and a bed that would become familiar. Not getting sleep tonight wouldn’t help, though. He wished he’d thought to pack Alexios’s old chlamys from the ship. Something to touch while he lay awake fretting.

Tomorrow night, hopefully this would be over. It couldn’t come soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was one of those days when writing was like pulling teeth. I'm kind of impressed I got anything knocked out at all!
> 
> A stoa is just a...calling it a building seems kind of strange. Picture a double row of columns, with a roof. Open and shady, the ones in Ancient Greece sometimes included a back wall (like a run-in shed, but for humans, if you're a rural sort) or buildings at the ends. The open areas were used for cooling off in the shade during the heat of a Mediterranean summer's day.
> 
> I know at least three different mushrooms that will create the effect Lykaon describes here. Most mushrooms actually will not kill you, they will just make you really, really wish you they had. That's why you don't go around eating strange mushrooms, friends.


	27. τέτλαθι δή, κραδίη: καὶ κύντερον ἄλλο ποτ᾽ ἔτλης

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two problems are solved and only one remains.

Even after training with Lysander’s youngest soldiers, Alexios was a pile of nervous energy. He paced his room until that even annoyed him, and finally managed to contain himself enough to politely ask a passing servant for hot water for tea, and honey to sweeten it. Kassandra delivered the water and honey, along with a withering look for his impatience. She slung a bundle off her back as he stirred mint and chamomile into the hot water.

“Here. I retrieved your things. You can make yourself useful and put everything in order.”

“You’re sent from the gods, clearly.”

Kassandra snorted and dropped into a chair, propping her feet on the bed. “And you are hopelessly smitten and possibly slightly silly, rejecting the crown of Sparta. But Myrrine and Nikolaos have gone off to an estate to the west to talk to a woman who has a lovely daughter of marriageable age. They’re not expected back until tomorrow. Stentor is in the field with his men, doing something military. They’ve left four guards with instructions to keep you inside the house.”

“You know, it’s almost insulting that they think four would keep me here.” Alexios laid out his armor, carefully checking over cuirass, greaves, and forearm guards.

“It’s what you get for pining like a weaned calf after your doctor. If you’d raged and thrown things, they’d have you chained to a wall with half of Stentor’s hoplites keeping watch.”

The mercenary rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t pining like a weaned calf. I was recovering from being hit on the head.” He took up his belt pouch and opened it, pulling out a golden sphere. Considering it for a moment, he held it out to Kassandra. “Here.”

When her fingers touched it, the sphere felt alive under her hand. She narrowed her eyes. “How does it work?”

“You’re asking me? I don’t know. Pythagoras carried it as a staff. When he gave the staff to me, he died. I told the staff it was ugly and inconvenient, and it turned into a ball. And now I’m giving it to you.”

She nodded, taking a breath, and closed her hand around it, taking it and stuffing it in her own belt pouch. “I guess I’ll keep it with me. Later maybe I’ll see if swearing at it makes it into a sword.”

Alexios shrugged. “Can’t hurt to try. And Kassandra, sister…thank you.”

“At least now you can stop being tragic and go be happy with Lykaon. Get a little farm, raise some sheep or goats. Maybe some grapes for wine.”

“No vineyard. Goats might be nice though.”

* * *

Lykaon kept himself busy in the little clinic, making sure it was neat and well-organized. He felt a pang of guilt for leaving Lysander with no physician. Today he’d wrapped an ankle that one of the inexperienced soldiers had sprained trying to keep up with Alexios, given the soldier with the disturbing dreams chamomile and mint tea to see if it helped him sleep more peacefully, and advised one of the older men on diet and exercise for his stiffening joints. He’d missed working.

It seemed to take forever for the sun to set, but eventually it did and he folded his himation into a shorter cloak, wrapping himself in it and taking a torch to venture into the streets. The army would all be at dinner. He hoped Kassandra and Alexios had dosed any guards at the house with the sedative he’d given her for them.

Up more stairs, to the foot of two massive bronze statues. Turn right, and go along a little lane. There were two columns and a beaten down front courtyard. The moon had just risen, full and bright. A single guard stood at the door to the house and Lykaon hesitated a moment, and then approached.

“Good evening. Lady Kassandra sent for me, I’m physician to General Lysander.”

“I’ll tell her.” The man opened the door and stepped inside. Lykaon heard a soft squelchy crunch with which he was sadly familiar and winced. Then Alexios stepped out and nothing and no one else existed for him.

They crashed into each other, both of them staggering a little, and then Alexios’s lips found his and his arms were around Alexios’s shoulders and they were pressed together as if they could melt into one body through armor and cloth. It wasn’t nearly long enough before Kassandra cleared her throat and closed the door. They parted reluctantly, Lykaon wiping at his eyes. Alexios put an arm around his shoulders, solid and warm and protective.

“We really should leave if you two are done.” Kassandra slid her sword back into its sheath.

“Let’s go.” Alexios let his arm slip from Lykaon’s shoulders and took his hand. “Lykaiskon, I’m afraid there’s no easy way out of Sparta. Well, not if you’re being subtle.” They followed Kassandra through dark alleys, right and left and right. “There’s a little climbing down involved.”

Lykaon smiled at him. “For you, I’ll fly like Pegasos.” He was rewarded with Alexios’s laugh and a squeeze of his hand.

The three of them found their way to the edge of the city and a cleft in the rocks that made a more gentle descent than climbing down a sheer cliff face. Lykaon suspected that was for his benefit, he’d seen Alexios go up and down much worse than this and Kassandra didn’t look as if it would give her any trouble either. A road glimmered before them in the moonlight. The siblings paused to listen.

“It’s clear.” Alexios led them out of the bushes and into a grove of young, bushy olive trees. Lykaon sincerely hoped he could tell where they were going and that it was the right direction, because once among the foliage he was hopelessly disoriented.

They came out of the olive grove and went up a slope, crossing a plateau. Lykaon felt himself flagging and pushed himself harder, determined not to slow the other two down. Down the slope off the plateau and into a small valley with a protected, concealed place at one end. They paused for a moment there.

“Doing all right, healer?” Kassandra looked Lykaon over. He had the feeling she missed none of his fatigue or the way his legs were starting to shake.

He nodded anyway. “I’m fine to go on.”

Alexios passed him a water skin. “Almost there, Lykaiskon. Up one more slope and it’s smooth and flat after that.”

Lykaon drank from the skin and passed it back. Then they went on, following a goat path up a slope that he thought would never end. But it eventually did, and not too much longer after that they could see the Adrestia, riding at anchor below them in the sea. He thought he’d never seen such a beautiful ship. Kassandra took the lead now, guiding them a little north, and suddenly Lykaon was struck with horror. There was no easy way down here, it was all sheer cliffs as far as the eye could see. North of them the cliffs led down to the beach, but the bit of land they were on jutted out over the water.

Kassandra reached over to clasp her brother’s arm. “You should be fine from here. I can see the lookouts on your ship. If they’re even half awake, they’ll spot you hitting the water.”

Alexios pulled her into a rough hug. “You can come with us, little sister.”

She laughed at that. “And miss the chance to see Stentor take the throne? Go, big brother. Be happy and stay out of trouble. I’ll keep an eye on things here until they settle down, then maybe show up at your door for a visit.”

Releasing her, Alexios turned to Lykaon. “Ready to fly like Pegasos?”

The doctor looked over the edge, swallowing nervously. “I’m not sure I can do this. Isn’t there some other way down?”

Kassandra shook her head. “Not for a long, long way. You’d be caught by the Krypteia.”

“It’s just, I’m not very good with heights and I really don’t think I ca—” She grabbed his chiton and himation at the shoulders and lofted him into the air and off the edge of the cliff and he was falling. He met the water hard enough to jar the air from his lungs and flailed, surfacing. A hand reached toward him.

“Lykaon! It’s Roxana! Stop panicking and take my hand!” He did as he was bidden and was hauled into a small boat the Adrestia kept for getting to shore easily.

At the top of the cliff, Alexios gave Kassandra a reproachful look. “That wasn’t nice.”

She shrugged. “He was taking too long and convincing himself he couldn’t do it. This was the easy way. Go be the hero and take care of him after your sister threw him off a cliff.”

Alexios laughed and hugged her again, then dove, arrowing into the water. He waved off Roxana and swam for the Adrestia’s prow, pulling himself up on her ram and shaking wet hair back. At the top of the cliff, Kassandra raised a hand. He raised one in return, and then she turned and was gone.

* * *

Before Alexios’s feet had even touched the deck of the Adrestia her oarsmen were turning her and taking her out to the open sea. By the time he reached Lykaon at the stern, where the doctor was wrapping himself in a dry chiton, the ship’s sail was down and filled with the wind as they tacked northeast. Alexios shucked off his armor with unaccustomed carelessness, dropping his soggy chitoniskos to a pile on the deck. Lykaon held out a dry length of cloth and he ignored it in favor of grasping the doctor’s wrist and pulling him flush against his body.

Lykaon leaned into Alexios’s chest and laughed before kissing him. “Shall we try for Lesbos again?”

The mercenary nuzzled his neck. “It’s a long way with no privacy.”

“But we can stay in one place once we get there. And I did promise Kassandra I’d try to keep you out of trouble.”

Alexios raised his head to laugh. “Interfering little sister that she is. Still, I owe her. She took the curse of Pythagoras from me, Lykaiskos. I’m free.”

“Oh, thank the gods.” Lykaon rested his forehead against the other man’s. “That’s wonderful news, love.”

“I thought so.” Alexios managed to sneak a hand into the open side of Lykaon’s chiton just below his belt.

The doctor narrowed his eyes. “ _Not_ on deck in front of your entire crew.”

Alexios laughed and kissed him again, then turned to call for Barnabas to set a course for Lesbos before flinging himself to the bench at the back of the stern with his usual disregard. “Fine, fine. Come sit with me, my heart. Did Lysander treat you well?”

Lykaon settled comfortably against his side. “He did. I still feel guilty about misleading him, in fact. And it was nice to work again. Would it bother you if I opened a small clinic when we’re settled?”

“Of course it wouldn’t bother me, not if that’s what will make you happy. I’ll keep myself busy fetching you herbs from wolf-infested stream banks and making sure you don’t overwork.”

“As if I would. I’ll need to send letters to my apprentices in Phokis, as well, and let them know they’re welcome to join me.”

“Perfect. They can see the early patients so you have time to make breakfast.” Alexios grinned.

“As long as you stay out of trouble. Otherwise you can get your own breakfast.”

“I’ll do my best, my heart. This conflict between Athens and Sparta…if it drags on too long…”

“You _don’t_ need to be involved. I’ve told you, you’ve done more than enough, Alexiskos. You’ve earned a rest.”

The mercenary tightened his arm around Lykaon’s shoulders. “And if the fight comes to us?”

“We’ll worry about that if it happens. Just remember that you don’t get to start it.” Lykaon stretched his legs out in front of him, yawning. “We should try to get some sleep.”

Shifting to the deck, they settled down tangled up with one another under an assortment of dry cloaks, and let the Adrestia rock them to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "τέτλαθι δή, κραδίη: καὶ κύντερον ἄλλο ποτ᾽ ἔτλης" is line 18 from Book 20 of The Odyssey. The usual translation is "Endure, my heart: for you have suffered worse than this". The "worse" there is covered by "κύντερον" which translated strictly literally means "dog-like" -- the Classical Greeks also had a great many insults for people that involved calling them various varieties of dog. I don't think they cared for dogs much, really.
> 
> Two days left! Aie! The plan is still to do some editing and reorganizing so that the chapters aren't my daily output anymore, and post it in a "remastered" version with revised and expanded notes on historical context as part of a series with it. I'll also have it as a nicely formatted ebook from Scrivener and need to set up an email so that if you'd like it that way (as opposed to the ebooks AO3 produces) there's a way for you to ping me and get a copy sent to you.


	28. The only heaven I'll be sent to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you get to go home.

Kassandra leaned her chair back against the wall and propped her feet on the table, cleaning her nails with a small knife, and waited. It didn’t take long for her to be rewarded by an inarticulate yell of rage from the back of the house and the sound of stamping feet.

“Where is he?” demanded Stentor, bursting back into the room.

“Where is who?” she inquired lazily, not bothering to look at him.

“Alexios. Our brother. One of the guards is missing and he’s not in his room.”

“That’s strange,” she admitted, tucking the small knife away and lacing her fingers behind her head. “He was here last night. I thought he was just sleeping late.”

He slammed his hands down on the table, failing to startle or intimidate her in the least. It only made him angrier. “I know you had something to do with this, _Kassandra_.”

She took her feet down off the table and let the chair fall forward, reaching to pat one of his hands. “You seem very upset. Let me get you some breakfast, little brother.” Standing and going to the pantry where bread and meat were waiting, she withdrew a little linen packet tied with red thread from her belt pouch, smiling. It was going to be a good day.

* * *

Alexios knew he’d found the house when he saw it. Two rooms downstairs, one up, and both rooftops canopied and shady. A little courtyard with a low wall housed a kitchen, and a spring bubbled up from the hillside within easy walking distance. Mytilene was close by, with its well-stocked agora and a supply of patients to keep Lykaon busy. He insisted on seeing the barn and the fenced garden, examining them as if he knew anything about agriculture. Alexios was pretty sure he could learn. The house, barn, and fence were in good repair and the price was reasonable after some animated haggling. He counted the coins into the man’s hand feeling smug and headed back into Mytilene with a spring in his step to meet Lykaon for dinner and tell him the good news.

The inn where they’d been staying wasn’t over-crowded, but wasn’t empty either. He found the doctor had beaten him back and was holding a small table in the common room, lamb and bread and cheese and olives already waiting there. “I found it!” he declared, dropping into the chair across the table and grabbing a piece of bread to pile with food. “A front room for your clinic, one for apothecary and weapons storage, and an upstairs room for a bedroom. Plus rooftops, of course. There’s a spring for water, and a barn. Oh and a garden for you.”

Lykaon smiled, eyes lighting up. “It sounds perfect. Shall we head out tonight? Or would you rather stay here one more time?”

He shrugged, mouth full, chewed, and swallowed. “It’s up to you, Lykaiskos. We’d be sleeping on the floor, but it would be our own floor. It’s an easy enough walk, maybe a couple stadia.”

The doctor sounded a little wistful. “After the Adrestia and now the inn, it would be nice to be somewhere a little less…full of people.”

“Then we’ll go as soon as we finish dinner. The cook can sell us bread and cheese and wine for breakfast tomorrow and we can come into town afterward.”

“Perfect.”

They bought food and torches from the inn, and even a little oil lamp. Alexios insisted on shouldering the oil and wine and their own bundle of clothing. But the walk was indeed easy, along a rutted road wide enough for two horses to pass abreast. A few other late travelers heading toward Mytilene’s center passed them, and the air was mild. Walking at what Lykaon considered an easy pace got them there just after the stars came out.

The mercenary further insisted on lighting a torch and going in without him at first. “Just to be sure, Lykaiskon. It’s been empty a while, anything could have moved in.” But moments later Alexios had declared it free of anything more dangerous than a few adventurous mice and Lykaon finally got to walk into home.

“Oh, Alexiskos, it _is_ perfect. You did wonderfully well.”

Alexios looked up from filling and lighting the oil lamp, smiling warmly. He tucked the lamp into a niche on one wall where it cast a dim, warm glow around the room, and took the smoky torch outside. Coming back in, he nearly walked into Lykaon.

“Really, my dear. It’s wonderful.” The doctor slipped arms around his waist and leaned their foreheads together. “And just think, all this quiet and peace and no Barnabas waking us up in the middle of the night because he’s convinced he just saw the Kraken.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around Lykaon. “If you had any idea how many times he’s done that to me, you would have let me drop him overboard.”

“It seemed like a waste of a good captain, though.”

“I could have promoted Roxana. She would have been fine. And not hallucinated Krakens every time she got bored on a late watch.”

Lykaon kissed him softly. “Still seems like a waste of a good captain. But I can see how you might have been at the end of your rope regarding Kraken sightings.”

“There’s only so many times a man can hear about mythical beasts without finding them before he begins to lose patience,” Alexios murmured against Lykaon’s lips. “He was right about the Cyclops Brontes, though.”

The doctor blinked. “He what now?”

Alexios lifted his head. “I didn’t tell you that story? About how I met Barnabas?”

“No. No you did not.”

“I would have sworn I had. He landed on Kephallonia and was telling people in the inn that he’d seen an ugly, one-eyed monster. Then he used the word Cyclops, which got back to the crime boss on Kephallonia. We called him Cyclops because he was big and ugly and only had one eye. Anyway the Cyclops - the crime boss one - had him picked up and was drowning him in a vat of water when I arrived to discuss canceling the debt Markos owed for his vineyard.”

“That’s lucky for Barnabas.”

“He’s called me a demigod ever since, he swears I arrived in answer to his desperate prayers. Anyway, we sail for Phokis and go past this island and he tells me that’s where he saw it. I couldn’t find it there then, though. But later I went back with a man who had a key to a door there, and behold! Brontes the Thunderer.”

“You really did fight Brontes the Thunderer.”

“And kill him. Yes. I’d still like to go back to Andros…”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ve been there many times and not been kidnapped by my extremely charming adopted baby brother.”

Lykaon rolled his eyes affectionately. “Yes, I know. But you don’t need to go starting fights, Alexiskos, we’ve discussed this. We’ll get some goats.”

“You are,” Alexios said, kissing him, “the only man,” another kiss, “for whom I would become a goat farmer.”

Lykaon nipped his bottom lip. “I prefer you alive, that’s all. Shall we find somewhere to put the bread and cheese that will keep the mice out of it, and see about making ourselves at home?”

The mercenary bent his head and kissed Lykaon’s throat. “I’m yours to command, my heart. If that’s what you want, then we’ll do it.”

“Good man.”

* * *

They were at the agora in Mytilene the next morning early, having gone down to the docks to ask the Adrestia’s crew to bring Alexios’s chest to the house. The market was already getting crowded with craftspeople and farmers there to sell their wares and townspeople there to buy them. Having agreed upon a list, the two men split up. Lykaon found an herbalist with a good selection of dried plants, fresh ones, and even seeds for a few things and lingered there after buying lengths of good cloth for making mattresses to stuff with straw.

Alexios found him there and tapped him on the shoulder. The doctor turned, laughing at what he beheld before him. The mercenary had a goat kid on his shoulders regarding the world in wide-eyed curiosity. Its mother stood beside him, a rope around her neck, chewing her cud. “Alexios! You found goats!”

“I did find goats! The start of your mighty flock. Later today the carpenter and his assistants will bring the bedstead and some chairs and two tables. We can talk to him about shelves and cabinets then.”

“Wonderful. We’ll get everything set up in no time at all.”

“For now, I’m finished and ready to go whenever you are.”

Lykaon grinned. “We’d better get the goats home and settled. Although we’ll need something to milk her into, so a stop on the way out is a good idea.”

The walk home was slower than the walk into town, given the goat doe’s tendency to insist on stopping to grab mouthfuls of every tempting shrub or tuft of grass along the road. Alexios didn’t begrudge her, and once out of the crowds he set the kid down to walk alongside for a while. The day felt very fine, not too hot, and the thought of going _home_ — of having a home — with Lykaon and permanent things like goats and furniture made him happy. Maybe he really would learn to do without the soaring rush of a fight. Maybe he could relax into this like he would into a hot spring or warm ocean waves.

Once at home they confined the goats to the overgrown garden, both to clear and manure it and to keep predators from the kid. Sailors from the Adrestia had arrived with two large amphorae and already filled them with water while waiting. Alexios got them to take his chest upstairs, while Lykaon seated himself in a patch of sunlight with needle and thread and lengths of cloth and began sewing a mattress. He looked up as the sailors left, catching Alexios leaning in the doorway watching, and raised both eyebrows.

Alexios smiled. “I was just thinking how nearly unbearably domestic it all is.”

He took the needle out of his mouth and laughed. “You’ll get used to it. Go water your goats, mercenary, and I’ll teach you to milk the doe here around sundown.”

“We’d have curdled milk in the morning then, and I’d like to point out that it’s been at least a week since I started any fight, let alone a war.”

“I know. I owe you teganites, possibly for three meals a day for a while. But they can’t happen without milk.”

The mercenary grinned. “It’s possible that’s the main reason I bought a goat in milk today.”

Lykaon bent back over his sewing. “I thought as much. When you’re done watering the goats, get one of your implements of destruction and cut enough dry grass to stuff this with, my dear.”

“I’m yours to command.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, y'all. Tomorrow is the last day of NaNo and...I'm gonna make it!
> 
> Only slaves and extremely poor people slept on mattresses or pallets on the floor at home in Classical Greece. A prosperous doctor like Lykaon would be accustomed to sleeping on a bed. Many of them were quite fancy. If you go in Alexios's house in Kephallonia, you can see he actually has a simple bedstead, which marks him as a solidly middle class sort of mercenary (as if the fact that he's living in a house that has at least 2 rooms doesn't tell you that already -- you can't go in the upstairs, but it's there! It is not in fact the hovel Markos calls it, despite the fact that our boy leaves broken pottery all over the place. PICK UP YOUR SHIT, ALEXIOS.)
> 
> Likewise chairs and tables would be expected things for a doctor living in a very fine house with three rooms. In fact if one of the rooms were kept for socializing, they'd have klines (KLIH-nays) or long couches for people to recline on.


	29. τό ἐπιλόγιον

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "τό ἐπιλόγιον" is Classical Greek for "The Epilogue". Some things don't change much in the course of 2400 years.

Lykaon woke suddenly in the dark room, aware something was wrong. Cautiously extending a hand, he found the bed beside him empty, only a ghost of Alexios’s warmth clinging to it. His heart jolted painfully in his chest and he slid out of the bed, taking his himation with him to wrap loosely around himself as he padded downstairs. Both rooms were empty, but he could hear quiet voices outside. Taking one of Alexios’s daggers, he stepped into the kitchen courtyard. Alexios and Kassandra both looked up from where they sat, talking, on the low wall and Lykaon breathed a sigh of relief. “There you are.”

Alexios stood and came to him, kissing him softly. “I didn’t mean to worry you, just to let you sleep.”

Lykaon nodded, and they made their way back over to the wall. “Kassandra, it’s good to see you. What brings you here in the middle of the night?”

“I came to tell Alexios that Nikolaos has died. And that Stentor does indeed now sit on the Agiad throne, reigning alongside Archidamos.”

“If there is any justice, it will give him stomach pains,” muttered Alexios.

“I’m sorry to hear about Nikolaos, and glad that the Agiad throne is finally filled and we can stop worrying that Myrrine will try to put Alexios on it.”

Kassandra nodded. “I’ve left Sparta for good, though. Myrrine decided it was time for me to get married, and I don’t want to know who she’d choose for me.”

“Would you like to come inside, Kassandra?” Lykaon gestured toward the house.

She nodded, and the three of them went to sit in the front room. Lykaon started a tiny fire in the fireplace and put water on to heat for tea.

Alexios leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs. “What other news? How is the war on the mainland going?”

“Oh, well, Sparta continues to lay siege to Athens, the Athenian Navy continues to harrass Sparta. Have you heard nothing?”

The former mercenary shrugged uneasily. “There’s talking in some of the taverns of joining with Boiotia and some other cities to rebel against Athens and unite Lesbos. Sparta’s encouraging it.”

Lykaon looked over sharply. “That would bring an Athenian army to our door!” He joined them at the table. “You aren’t involved with this, surely, Alexios?”

“No, no. And for now it’s just talk. Although I think if the war doesn’t end soon it may start being more than that.”

Kassandra looked thoughtful. “There’s good money to be made in a war. For a physician, as well.”

“I’ll stick to treating farmers who got stepped on by their oxen and children who have eaten too many figs, thank you.”

She smiled. “That reminds me, I brought presents.” She carefully removed several small bundles from her belt pouches, laying them out on the table. She handed one to Lykaon. “Fig tree cuttings. In case you didn’t have enough fig trees to keep my glutton big brother happy.”

Alexios crossed his arms on his chest. “I’m right here, you know.”

Lykaon laughed, taking the bundle from her. “We only have one small one right now, and it’s definitely not enough on its own.”

“Such a weakness for sweets. It’s a good thing he never had to go through the agoge, he’d never have made it. These seeds are from Hippokrates, I ran into him in Argos and he thought you might want some to plant near the house.”

“That’s very thoughtful of him, and of you for carrying them for him. Thank you.” Lykaon accepted the other little bundles from her, each one with a papyrus tag identifying it. “I’ll get Alexios to dig over some beds to plant these in today.”

“I knew you only wanted me for my muscle.”

“It’s one of the top five reasons, certainly.”

Alexios rolled his eyes affectionately and went to put mint leaves in the hot water. They passed the rest of the night catching up on the last year, Kassandra declining their offer of hospitality and moving on when the sun came up.

At lunch they sat in the shade of a tree, watching their goats graze and eating bread spread with fresh cheese.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was talk of rebellion?”

Alexios stretched out on his back on the ground. “I didn’t want to worry you. It might come to nothing, and even if something does happen it doesn’t mean there will be a war on our doorstep.”

Lykaon leaned back on his hands, looking over. “What are you going to do if war does come?”

“Keep you safe, whatever it takes. I don’t plan to go hire myself out to either of the armies, if that was what you were wondering. Although since the oligarchs know I’m here, I expect I’ll get an offer from Mytilene at least, if not Athens.”

“I could kill Barnabas for not being able to think before he speaks.”

“What’s done is done. And I told the captain of the guard that I was retired when he came here, so it’s all right, Lykaiskon.”

The doctor reached over with a foot to nudge him. “I can’t help worrying. I don’t want our peace to be interrupted by this never-ending war between Sparta and Athens.”

“We can always go farther away. Massilia is still available.” Alexios smiled up at him.

“Somehow I don’t think you’d be _less_ likely to get dragged into fights, living among barbarians.”

“I haven’t even ended a fight in months, my heart, I’m starting to worry I’m going soft.”

Lykaon laughed drily. “I don’t think it’s a worry while you’re drilling with the city guard twice a week, beloved.”

“A man needs hobbies. And I haven’t started a war.”

“Very true, for which you are to be commended.”

“I probably deserve those figs you preserved in honey last autumn.”

“Oh, now we come to the real bone of contention. You may have _one_ when we go inside because I am ridiculously weak of will where you’re concerned, but if you eat the entire jar you’ll be miserable and we’ll be out of figs until the new ones ripen.”

“We can always buy figs, you know.”

“Yes but they won’t be as good. Behave yourself.”

Alexios tucked his hands behind his head. “It doesn’t seem to me that behaving myself is particularly worth it.”

“You’ll just have to grow accustomed to it.”

With a quick movement, Alexios snaked out an arm and deftly nudged Lykaon’s nearest elbow outward, catching him as he started to collapse and pulling him against his body. “I admit that you were right, there’s something to be said for people not trying to kill me all the time. But I do still feel incredibly lazy most of the time.”

Lykaon laughed and kissed him. “Your reflexes appear to still be there, at least. Anyway, you do plenty. It’s just that none of it involves running the length of the Peloponnese, assassinating five people, and fighting a battle.”

“You see? I’m definitely getting soft.”

“It’s allowed, beloved. You are absolutely allowed to have a normal, boring, peaceful life.”

Alexios reached up to cradle Lykaon’s face in one palm. “It does seem like you’re right. Otherwise surely the gods would have put an end to it by now.”

“You see? We can raise our goats, make cheese, and let the world pass us by.”

“Oh that reminds me. Eneas has two hives of bees that he doesn’t need. I thought I’d offer to help him cut his hay in trade.”

“That would save you time in shopping for honey, certainly.”

“Bees make gardens more fertile, too! Your herbs would thrive. I’m only thinking of you, my heart, clearly.”

“Of course, darling man, how selfless you are,” Lykaon laughed, kissing the end of his nose. “I’m sure the thought of honey never crossed your mind.”

“Not once.”

“We should get back to the house, though, I’m expecting a patient for a consult this afternoon. And I need to put bread in to bake. Oh and unless you go hunting, there will be bread and cheese and olives for dinner.”

“I found a rabbit warren not far from here, I’m sure I can turn something up.”

Dinner was fat rabbits roasted in the oven alongside the baking bread, with cheese and onions. Alexios was a little quieter than normal until Lykaon nudged him with one foot. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head to clear it. “I met Zeuxis while I was hunting, you remember him? With the spotted ox? He says the talk of rebellion has moved to planning. I can probably expect a visit from whoever the oligarchs elect as stratagos soon, if they’re serious. Then I have to hope they’re willing to take a refusal graciously.”

Lykaon’s stomach clenched. “I’m sure they will. We pay our taxes and meet our obligations, they can’t possibly intend to require military service from you as well.”

Alexios shrugged philosophically. “If they do, our choices are limited. I’d hate to leave here, and have to start over somewhere else.”

“I suppose there’s not much use in me worrying about it until they do send someone. They still might not.”

The former mercenary reached out and took Lykaon’s hand. “It’s true, they might not send for me at all. Or Athens might hear of the revolt, and find a way to crush it without bloodshed before it even begins. I certainly won’t be working for either side before a war starts. I don’t do that anymore, Lykaiskon, you know that.”

Lykaon squeezed his fingers. “I do know that, beloved. I’ll try not to worry over it. We can always try to negotiate something other than you in active fighting if it comes to it, as well.”

He nodded. “I’d thought of that, too. I could even go to sea as part of their Navy, with Barnabas and the Adrestia. They’d probably be glad of the pay and chance for a share of spoils.”

“I was thinking more that you might attend me to guard a temporary clinic set up to treat the army. So that no one is trying to kill you at all unless something goes very terribly wrong.”

Alexios smiled at him. “Whatever happens, my main concern is to keep you safe. If we do have to leave, at least we’ll be leaving here together, my heart. I won’t let us be separated again. We’ve had too much of that.”

Lykaon leaned across the table to kiss him. “Indeed we have. Never again, Alexios, if we can help it. I’m much too accustomed to having you here with me to bear another parting.”

“Never again,” Alexios murmured against his lips.

 

* * *

The woman walks into the little museum, as she does once a year. The volunteer at the front desk offers her a brochure, but she doesn’t need it. She knows where she’s going. She walks past neolithic stone tools, a scattering of Bronze Age implements, endless displays of spindle whorls and loom weights. What she’s looking for is in the large room at the back: a display of unusual funeral stele from the cemetery at Mytilene.

The one she’s here to see is still on display. She wishes, as she always does, that she could touch it. That it was still in the cemetery, and she could leave offerings. Instead it’s here, in a case at a museum with a note speculating on the information carved into its face, two names surrounded by some very fine carvings. Just two names, that was all. No flowery poetry or other overblown sentiment.

ΛΥΚΑΟΝ ἈΛΘΕΥΣ  
ΑΛΕΧΙΟΣ ΧΡΥΣΑΕΤΟΦΟΡΟΣ

She will always wonder if, somewhere in Elysion, Alexios is just waiting for a chance at revenge after she carved “Eagle Bearer” on his stela. Lykaon might have stopped her, but he’d died some years previously, carried off in a round of plague in Mytilene. She’d thought she would lose Alexios as well, then. But he’d been in the habit of staying alive, and had kept doing it for a little while longer, even though anyone could see that his heart had gone out of him. So there had been no one to stop her from having the stonemason put the epithet on the stela. Lykaon had his own, of course, they weren’t going to leave his grave unmarked, but she wanted to ensure that they couldn’t be separated, not ever again. So instead of having one carved for Alexios alone, she’d replaced Lykaon’s with this one for them both.

It didn’t look the same without the paint. She wishes she could have it back, repaint it, set it up as a small altar in a corner of her garden. Her life has been very long, longer than she could have conceived of on the day she told Alexios she would take Pythagoras’s curse from him so he could one day have this stela. But she’s never quite lost her urge to worship in the ways she learned when she was young.

“Chaire, brothers,” she murmurs. “I’m still here. Maybe someday I can join you.”

Kassandra turns and walks back out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is 2313 on the last day of November here on the east coast of the US, and I have just pasted 2204 words into the input thingy bobber. 
> 
> ἀποπονέω - I am finished with the work.
> 
> Thank you all so much for comments and kudos and bookmarks and kindness! It really made a difference to my ability to stick with this.
> 
> And really the writing isn't finished, and this needs revision and polishing up and reposting, but NaNo is over and I am victorious.
> 
> One Last Historical Note:  
> The Classical Greeks did indeed keep bees! Honey bees have been domesticated a long time. Herodotos remarked that the Greeks were the only ones who ate the honey made by bees, claiming that in surrounding areas, people ate honey made from fruit. He was almost certainly incorrect, but it does offer an intriguing hint that a nearby civilization was making fruit syrups.
> 
> The Mytilenean Revolt took place in 428BCE, during the Second Peloponnesian War. It failed for a variety of reasons. Afterward, the Athenian council ordered that every adult man in Mytilene be rounded up and killed. The next day, however, they regretted the order and dispatched a second ship with orders to only kill the ringleaders. Either 1000 or 30ish Mytileneans were killed for their part in the rebellion, in the end.
> 
> [You can find me on Tumblr](http://neolithicsheep.tumblr.com/) if you like! My fannish activity is there, but if you want [you can find me being political on Twitter](https://twitter.com/NeolithicSheep). I'm somewhere to the left of Karl Marx.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed. It was a rollercoaster writing it, and I'm plunging into revisions and probably shorter pieces written for this pair. Thank you again for your kindness and support!


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